Requiem for a Rising Star
by control of chaos
Summary: Sequel to End of the Road. In the process of being rewritten.
1. Chapter 1

Part one of _Requiem for a Rising Star_, and sequel to _End of the Road_. I really wanted to concentrate on one story at a time, and I really _really _tried to. This one just begged to be written. Besides, then I can't get bored with one and slack off doing unimportant things… like that homework sitting ominously beside me. *glares at the looming stacks of paper*

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><p>As he stood in the sergeant's office, Alex went over the identification papers he knew were in the manila file on the man's desk:<p>

**[Name: Jonathan (John) Carson Doud**

**DOB: 13 November 1986 (24)**

**Physical description: 176 cm (5'9''); 10 stone (140 lbs); auburn hair; brown eyes; fair-skinned; various scars acclimated during the three and a half years with SFSG and minor limp. (see attached picture)**

**Condition (as of 27 June 2011): Survived a car bombing in the SFSG that resulted in scars across his back and multiple limbs (9 December 2007); Caught in the knee and chest with gunfire resulting in a limp with psychosomatic pains (11 February 2011). Diagnosed by two specialists as suffering minor PTSD (28 February 2011).**

**Family information: Birth parents unknown. Clayton Doud (adoptive father) and Jennifer Perth-Doud (adoptive mother) both killed in car accident on 4 June 1992. Kyle Doud (twin brother) died of stage IV leukemia on 30 April 1994. Thomas Garth (second adoptive father) lives in London, England (emergency contact information attached). No other known relatives.**

**Background information: Little known. No criminal records. Passed A-levels at the top of his class. Joined the Royal Air Force (RAF) on 12 September 2004. Transferred to Special Forces Support Group (SFSG), upon its creation on 3 April 2006, by Air Marshal David Hadley for Task Force Red*. 21 August 2010, X-Unit of SAS requests a temporary skilled replacement for 'Bear'. Doud volunteered and his re-assignment was accepted and signed for. Currently assigned to D-Unit.**

**Prior assignments: *must have level five clearance***

**Ongoing/recent assignments: *must have level three clearance*]**

The sergeant was not going to be pleased with an SAS member that he himself had not put here. In fact, his (fake) transfer papers from the SFSG had never even crossed the man's desk, instead being passed over his head to higher-ups. He had never gone through SAS training, but managed to get in through a change in paperwork. And _that_ would tick the man off, if nothing else did.

On top of that, his change in hair color and new scars weren't going to throw anyone off who had gotten a good look at him from his first time at Brecon Beacons. Sure he'd grown a couple inches, but still short for even his age group, Alex was going to stand out like a cat in a kennel of dogs.

MI5 had planned for this, of course, but not in a way he had wanted.

The sergeant had level five clearance, as did most anybody who held any kind of bureaucratic position in the military, and nothing much would show up there. Hoops to jump through, phrases like 'operation still considered covert until further notice' and a lot of basic evasion typical for someone serving in a special forces division. All normal stuff there.

Now what most suits did _not _have was access to level three clearance. The sergeant _technically_ didn't have this clearance either, except that the position he was in allowed him higher access so long as it pertained to a member of the SAS, which 'John Doud' supposedly was. From there, it backtracked to his unofficial files as a 'temporarily unavailable' agent in MI6 and a previous, easily recognizable codename: Cub.

Being protected by level three clearance, the sergeant would be not only obliged but _expected_ to maintain his cover as 'John Doud', thereby eliminating problems of secrecy to an absolute minimum. It would not help his standing with the sergeant, however.

That was where he was expecting the technical difficulties.

He was right.

The man finally arrived an hour after he had called Alex in. Standing at attention for an hour was not fun, especially considering that his knee was still not in peak condition on top of his extensive new run of scar tissue. He took his time settling back into the chair, opening the file on his desk as if it was his first time glancing at it, before slamming a hand down. The intention was to frighten the 'new recruit', a tradition he had evidently kept to all these years, but it was all Alex could do to not roll his eyes. Once upon a time this guy might have scared the shit out of him. Hell, he _had_ scared the shit out of him when he was a teenager sparkly new to the world of espionage. Now? This guy had rules to follow and at least a couple morals on top of that, which made him one of his top ten favorite people he'd engaged in conversation with this last year. Piece of cake.

"So, _Doud_ was it?" They both knew otherwise, but both of them were bound by laws preventing the budding of any such conversation.

"Yes, sir." He was whispering as part of his cover. By keeping his voice low, it was hard to discern his voice as a teenager's. His eyes did not meet the sergeant's. The form of PTSD he was supposedly suffering would make him shy and withdrawn.

"I'll tell you right up front." The sergeant's eyes narrowed to snake-like slits. "I don't like you or anything about this situation. I don't care what you did before you wound up here, but you will not drag D-Unit down because you can't handle yourself. If I can't bin you, I will do everything I can to make your life into a living Hell."

"Yes, sir." Whose idea had this been? Oh that's right. His.

With a last glance-over at the new addition to D-Unit, he shook his head. "Disgraceful. If you live through your first overseas assignment, I'll be impressed. Report to D-Unit's cabin. You'll follow their schedule. Dismissed."

Much as the man was trying to get a rise out of him, force him to break cover, Alex went right with it, acting the part he had been assigned with. Saluting the sergeant and deliberately meeting his eyes before he turned to leave, he felt that his day was getting off to a good start. When the door was closed, his leg began to throb with a dull tattoo as it got used to moving again. Massaging the area around his knee did little to help, but he wound up doing so anyway.

The brief look he had gotten at a map in the sergeant's office made it obvious as to the location of the cabin he would be spending the next months until redeployment, but Doud was one to get easily lost. Thus, he spent a good ten minutes bumping into people, quietly asking for directions. The cap pulled low over his eyes gave him the appearance of being even shorter than his five foot nine height and most of the soldiers walked off trying to guess whose kid he was.

Finally getting to D-Unit's doorstep, he raised a tentative hand, wondered once more what he was thinking when he had asked Blunt to transfer him here, and knocked.

* * *

><p>Tiger was not having a good day either.<p>

He and his team had attended Dolphin's funeral last week, and the sobbing young widow clutching her nine-month-old to her chest had done nothing to lift the oppressive mood. Dolphin had been only twenty-three when he had joined the SAS, and barely four weeks later, they were putting roses on his casket. Jaguar, by far the most empathetic of the group, had delivered their condolences to the widow. Whether or not she even understood what he was saying was beyond their knowledge, but it was a nice change to not be thrown out or banned from coming by the family.

Crane, the new recruit that had been killed in action a month before Dolphin was approved to take his open position, had never married, but his family had been incredibly close to him. His father had never approved of him joining the military, and at his funeral, he sure as hell was not letting D-Unit enter the close-knit family service.

There had been Badger before that, Iguana before that, and Cat, their original teammate, before them all. The position that none of their replacement members seemed to live through was now referred to as the 'Black Cat' seat. A rumor had begun to circulate in the SAS that it wouldn't be until thirteen recruits had their lives claimed in the Black Cat seat that D-Unit would have a replacement last more than a year. So far, nothing had happened to dissuade that line of thinking. Four down, nine to go.

And now he had to welcome in Black Cat number five.

It was not going to be a good day.

He was about to kick Jaguar out of bed—it was already 0700, so the candidates in testing would have left to start running the courses by now—and join up with Crow in the mess hall, when he heard the knock. It wouldn't be the sergeant. He was letting the units rest up until the test candidates were funneled down to the four or five fresh recruits. From there, the empty positions would be filled in, some of the units would have their members switched around for the purpose of balancing senior crews with the newest ones, and then the real courses would start up. Until that point, they went through classes on the upgraded technology, practiced at the shooting range, and extra language courses were offered if you had the time and interest.

So it had to be…

On the porch was a scrawny kid in baggy fatigues and a thin long-sleeved tan shirt, the typical barracks dress that all the units and trainees wore at Brecon Beacons.

His first thought was that this kid was one of the training candidates, and he'd gotten turned around at some point during the day. With his size and the way he avoided his eyes, it certainly seemed like it. "What do you want?" Tiger grunted.

"This is D-Unit's cabin?"

"Yeah. Why?"

The kid uncomfortably shifted his weight to one side. "I'm Bunny, Dolphin's replacement."

His eyes narrowed. "I didn't think they assigned new recruits for a few more months. Selection's only just started."

"I'm not a new recruit, sir. I was transferred here from X-Unit."

That rang a bell in Tiger's head. X-Unit was a forward unit that had recently been specializing in Kandahar. Within the last two years, the losses R-, X- and Z-Unit had been suffering down in Afghanistan were worse than the rest of SAS combined. Only the infamous Redbird, the one-eyed commander of X-Unit and almost any operation in the area, remained of the original twelve soldiers. If this kid, Bunny, had been in Redbird's unit, he was underestimating the kid's skills by a long shot.

"I think you might want to reconsider another unit, Bunny. There are a couple oth-"

Shaking his head, the young soldier pulled out the nerve to meet his eyes for a few seconds. "I chose this unit specifically. I heard about the Black Cat position and figured it would be better for me to fill the spot than someone fresh out of selection."

Tiger held the cabin door wide open and stepped aside, letting him in. "Then I guess you've found the right spot. I need to boot Jaguar out of his bunk and then we're heading to the mess hall for breakfast. You already know your way around here, I take it?"

"Mmm, not really," he murmured, sinking on to the bed that had clearly been uninhabited for quite some time. "Redbird picked me out of an SFSG team doing work in the area for X-Unit when he needed a spot filled, I stayed with them for awhile, and when the time came around to make a decision, I switched from SFSG to SAS. So this is actually the first time I've been here."

"Huh." As he'd said he would, he got the snoring soldier out of bed with a well-aimed kick to his mattress, sending both of them to the floor.

"I thought they were letting us sleep in, Tigger." That earned him a shot to his exposed stomach. "Oww." The tan, dark-haired Jaguar put an arm protectively around his abdomen as he pushed himself off the floor. At the sight of the short blond soldier, he stopped to take a better look. "I didn't know you had kids, Tig-ouch." And there went his ankle.

"Bunny's our replacement."

"Damn. You got screwed in the naming department," he wisely noted, limping over to put his bunk back in order.

"Redbird gave me the name. On paper, it's technically Grey-1."

The name of X-Unit's commander perked Jaguar's ears up just as fast as it had Tiger's. "You worked with Redbird? We're going to have a lot to talk about over breakfast. Where's Crow?"

"Probably at the shooting range," he assumed, based on previous experience. Turning back to the small soldier, he jerked his thumb at the door. "I'll show you to the mess hall."

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><p>Alex was pleasantly surprised that his cover was holding up so well. Unlike his first time at Brecon Beacons, his unit seemed to immediately take to him. (Of course, with K-Unit he'd been fourteen, inexperienced, and only in the most basic parts of selection. Looking back he realized that he wouldn't have liked himself much either. K-Unit had, obviously, learned their lesson since then.)<p>

Now, he just had to remember his cover story, which Jaguar was intensively scrutinizing.

"And Redbird actually picked you out of the SFSG unit?"

He acted as if it wasn't a big deal, because as a formerly non-SAS member, he shouldn't know of the legend that Redbird had made of himself. Being in MI6, he knew plenty, but not as someone from SFSG, where the main concern is how to be most efficient as backup. With a shrug he said, "I guess. He just dragged me from my post and told me I'd been re-assigned."

"Wow." The soldier leaned backward in his chair, completely ignoring the pile of mush on his plate that the cook was exaggerating by calling it chicken, much less food. It certainly didn't taste like it. "How was it being with X-Unit? Was it exciting?"

"It was only for a couple months. After the firefight-"

"You got into a gun battle?" Jaguar was absolutely exuberant, but then, taking a glance over at Tiger, stories like this must not come in all that often.

"A small one in Kandahar. We were caught by surprise and I got the worst of it, being out front. They shipped me back to London, and now here I am four months later."

Tiger grunted. "Wolf—commander of one of the other units here—said the guy he had to replace had been killed."

"So did everyone else." He tapped the skin over his heart. "I just got lucky, I guess."

Jaguar whistled loud enough for someone at the next table over to complain, which he dutifully ignored. "So why did Redbird call you 'Bunny'? That doesn't seem very nice."

"He probably would have called me Rabbit if someone hadn't already taken that. I was the one they sent to scout out the area and take messages back and forth between other units collaborating in the field." He grimaced. "One time he called me Bunny, and it kind of stuck after that."

Not meaning to interrupt story time, Tiger frowned as he looked around the mess hall. "Did Crow ever come in?"

Alex looked to Jaguar, who shook his head. "Seen hide nor hair of him since yesterday. Did he even return to the cabin last night?"

"Later than usual, almost at midnight. I'll need to have a talk with him. The sergeant gets wind of it and he could be in trouble if this continues." He sighed and remarked to Alex, "Crow's the strange sort, but for the most part he's reliable."

Nodding, he was quickly startled out of his reverie as he noticed the figures just coming in the door. The one in front, with dark hair and an even darker expression, was trying to kill the blond idiot that had attempted to glomp him. Repeatedly. Just behind the two with an exasperated expression, as if this was an all-too-frequent occurrence, and carrying a clipboard under his newly de-casted arm was the tallest (and most mature) of the group. Further back, and slipping in a (coincidentally) well-placed pile of mud, was the somewhat-new(ish) recruit added to this unit. Despite that, he fit in with their constant state of insanity almost worryingly well.

Before they could get a good look in his direction, he pulled his camouflage cap down further over his newly re-colored hair and stood up from the table to dump the uneaten mush into the trash, muttering an excuse of some kind to his two highly confused teammates, and walking silently out the door. Not once did he risk taking a glance back to see if someone had recognized the little they saw.

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><p>AN: Damn it all, I am sick _again_. How this keeps happening, I have no clue. No f***ing clue. It all adds up to more antibiotics, more steroids, and more appointments with specialists whose job names I can't even pronounce. If I die before the next chapter is finished…my twin can post a picture of my tombstone for you all to admire. Have a great day, because no matter how bad yours gets, I will always be here to have one that's even worse. **=So review, dammit=**

Also, made some changes thanks to the incredible help of _arwel_ and _wolfern_, who brought to my attention that different systems of measurement are used in England, and there is no 29th of February this year. ^_^ Thanks guys!

*Down to the last grain of detail, I'm doing my best to keep to real situations. Task Force Red (or Maroon; whatever) was the first recorded operation of the SFSG, who basically act as the official support force to the SAS. But that's the watered down version for those of you who just want to enjoy the story. The history of the SFSG is really quite impressive and worth looking into. It's a new group, and not much has been leaked out, so there's little to nothing to go on…but still a cool subject.


	2. Chapter 2

Part two of _Requiem for a Rising Star_. Holy shit, I **LOVE **you guys! 24 reviews? Hello, new record, and all within less than twenty-four hours. I love all of you soooo very much. Would it be asking too much for a repeat?

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><p>Of all the places he could have wound up, the shooting range was where he stumbled into. Granted, it was early in the day, so few were occupying the grounds. No one paid any mind to him as he grabbed one of the Sigs without a second thought, scribbled 'Doud' and his unit letter on the roster, and found a more-or-less secluded part of the range to practice on.<p>

Another soldier, focused intently on the targets in front of him, didn't seem to so much as notice his presence.

Closing his eyes, Alex set the gun on a small side table and dismantled it the same way he had done with hundreds of guns, making necessary alterations as he went. The bitter taste of metal never left his mouth just as his hands never left the cold pieces on the table, effortlessly putting them in learned order to his right side within easy reach of nimble fingers. Just as the gun was stripped, the process was automatically reversed again. Seconds later, it was in the same condition it had been upon him picking it up from the rack.

Stepping back over to the range, he focused on the target in front of him. It was the typical vaguely human form that you can find in any shooting gallery. Red concentric circles marked the center of the figure's torso, but he paid no mind to those. Why take the easy shot when it killed just as often as not?

Turning so his eyes were facing the wall to his left, he fired at the unmoving target one, two, three times. A pause. Three more times. A pause. He continued this method until the cartridge was empty nine bullets later. Knowing exactly where each and every one of his shots landed, he reloaded the Sig and switched hands. This part was a little harder, as he had never been ambidextrous, and instead of firing three at a time, he did two. Instinctive firing only worked if you were extremely confident; with his left, he was anything but.

On the last count, he fired three in a row to empty the cartridge. The last one he knew, by instinct and lots of practice, had been almost two centimeters lower than the first two. Even that short distance could be enough to leave a man immobilized or, worse, able to return fire. For that, Three would have—

He jolted out of the memory, keen on leaving it among the list of events he had either lost to dissociative amnesia or put on his mental 'no-fly' list. Clenching his teeth, his jammed in another round and set to improving his left-handed shooting.

Three was dead. The kids were safe. Why was there still a problem?

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><p>Crow didn't particularly like being around people.<p>

It wasn't a personal grudge or vendetta he was holding against the rest of the world, or anything along those lines; he just wasn't a people-person. People in general made him nervous and tense through no fault of their own, and he had been that person lurking alone in the very edge of your view since he was a toddler. His teachers and parents had always wondered if something was wrong with him, but being from a relatively poor family, in a bad area of town, and stuck in the public school system, nothing had ever changed.

Fighting successfully through Selection with Cat, seeing his teammate die as he was gunned down in a rare incident of friendly-fire that was the fault of neither side, and then watch the Black Cat position open back up time and time again was doing nothing to help.

Their newest Black Cat would be filled at some point within the next week, according to what he had heard from the sergeant in a private conversation upon D-Unit's arrival, and the damn replacement was a _volunteer_ practically asking to get himself killed. A newbie and yet another funeral to attend before the year's end. That would be a new record: three in one year.

Since the sergeant left that news in his confidence, he had been in a bad mood, going to the shooting range at odd hours and getting little to no sleep when he did manage to make it back to his cabin. Tiger was catching on to him, he knew but couldn't stir up enough energy to care about, and Jaguar was probably worried. Damn medic worried about every little thing, he snorted as he fired again. His mutilation of the faux person in front of him knew no bounds. The paper was going to have to be replaced again.

With a sigh, he stabbed a finger at the black button on the wall to bring the cutout forward. The very top of it was held up via thick magnets and a small clip. Undoing the magnets and releasing the clasp, the mutilated man was replaced with a clean slate, ready for an imminent demise. Another push of the button retracted the pale figure, and the click of a safety manually switching off signaled the beginning of its violent end. Instead of aiming for the big obvious target encircled by garish lines to mark the dead center of its torso, he went for a head shot, right between the theoretical eyes, over and over again. As the group's sniper, Crow knew right where to hit when he wanted to kill his target; not being able to carry out such a simple task would have rendered him incompetent for the job, after all.

Focusing all of his energy on the target he was repeatedly executing, Crow didn't notice the new presence in the booth next to him until he went to reload. Even then, he only took interest when the person started shooting one-handed, a fool's errand. Despite the obvious stupidity in taking shots without stabilizing your hand with another one to improve aim, his target wasn't suffering any less for it.

While he hit the head occasionally, the man wasn't keeping his shots confined to one consistent place. To say they were erratic would have been an understatement. There was a shot to the side of the neck—either the jugular or carotid, he couldn't remember which was which—then one to the side of the head instead of the center, another to the left kneecap, and three in a row to the forehead. This guy was covering all the bases in one run.

Without taking note of the results, he reloaded and switched hands. Even Crow had to be surprised by his youth as the guy—no, kid—shut his eyes without taking notice of his one-man audience and started shooting in two-shot intervals. In comparison, these were all aimed at the center of the target's eyes, a kill-shot no matter how you looked at it. Tearing his eyes from the range, he watched the kid grit his teeth on the last shot. Only he and, obviously, the kid, could tell that on the third shot, the hand holding the gun had tipped less than a degree down, causing the shot to fall on the bridge of the nose instead of where the other fourteen had made a single clean hole. It was still a kill, but that mattered not to the shooter, who shoved another cartridge in and started again with the same drill.

Crow raised an eyebrow. He had experience with instinctual shooting, but as D-Unit's sniper, it was largely a wasted talent in the field where the focus was on calculating specific shots and not on the speed with which they were taken. On the other hand, if the newbie could show off, he felt it wasn't as wasted as he had previously assumed.

As he finished rearming the Sig, he fell back into the comfortable position that nearly mirrored the kid's and exhaled. Unlike his neighbor, he _was_ ambidextrous, and maintained that unique ability in everything he did, including shooting. He did the same as he had before: hitting between the eyes. It had become a habit, and not one he was particularly keen on breaking.

When the kid momentarily let his grip relax to massage his wrist, he noticed his fellow shooter. Crow glanced over at him when he took his eyes off the target, but his neighbor was already back to shooting the second that his grip tightened back on the trigger. This happened again two rounds later, where he could've sworn that he felt eyes on the back of his neck, but when he stopped to catch a peek, the gaze were already focused somewhere else.

At some point during the ten minutes, it turned into a contest. While they refused to acknowledge that each was trying their skill against the other, that was just what the two were doing. They were going for both speed and accuracy, pushing their trigger fingers to the limits and taking the exact same kill shot over and over. Of course, the kid was using his off hand, and Crow hadn't shot this way for months, so it was an even match; more so than it might otherwise have been.

If his stockpile of ammunition had been endless, their unorthodox competition might never have ended. Crow waited for his neighbor to finish off his own round before exchanging awkward greetings. They didn't shake hands, and barely met eyes, although the later was not of his doing. "Crow."

"Bunny."

The soldier felt his eyebrow go up, but he didn't ask further. Someone somewhere hated this kid's guts. "You shoot well."

"You too. Didn't know they taught that kind here."

"They don't. How about you?"

"Don't know any other way." Sure he _seemed_ shy, and his small frame endorsed that fact, but this kid—Bunny—wasn't what he was making himself out to be. He avoided making eye contact, yet when he did, as he unconsciously emphasized his points, it was like staring into a raging inferno of emotions funneled into inscrutable concrete. One minute he was looking at unharnessed…something…and then nothing. Soft as ice and real as a horror movie.

"Huh." He didn't intend to delve any further—this kid was no concern of his—and he wanted to grab another dozen rounds to spend the rest of his day engaged in one-sided violence, when Tiger finally located the two of them. Crow grunted, as this was sure to mean trouble in his case, but Bunny was already loading in his next round of bullets while simultaneously changing out his now-headless cutout target and didn't notice the footsteps over the metallic hum. Tiger thumped a hand on the kid's shoulder, which triggered some kind of reaction.

Like flipping a switch, Bunny went instantaneously from fixing up the new target to accidentally almost taking off the unfortunate Crow's head in less than a second. A millisecond after that he realized his overreaction and quickly clicked the safety back on. "Sorry. Uh, didn't mean to…" The sniper was royally pissed and wasting no effort to hide that fact. "Sorry?"

Jaguar stepped quickly out from behind Tiger to stand in front of him. "Hey, cool down. Accidents happen."

"That kid almost _shot me_!" he snapped angrily. "I'd hate to see what other _accidents_ he causes!"

Crow would have stormed off, but Tiger's hand clamped down on his shoulder. "We came here for good reason, Crow, not just to cause a ruckus."

He brushed the hand from its perch. Despite that, he crossed his arms and growled, "What?"

"Well for starters, to get you to actually go to meals and sleep at night. Serge catches on to your nightly antics and you won't be the only one in trouble."

The soldier grumbled, but nodded. "That's it?"

"Not quite. We also wanted to introduce you to your new teammate."

More grumbling. "Aren't the guys supposed to be in basic for the next three months?"

"We got a transfer instead of a newbie."

"Good. Maybe this one will last."

"You can decide for yourself. Crow, meet Bunny."

His eyes got a glazed look as the realization went through his mind. With some parting words that were probably not meant to be in a T-rated story, he stalked out. Behind him, Tiger shook his head. "He's just in a bad mood."

Jaguar held back a derisive snort. "No, he just hates anyone replacing Cat."

Crow didn't have to look back, as his team leader argued, "Crane got along with him well enough," to know that Bunny was staring curiously after him. That kid was an enigma, and one he didn't want to deal with.

He must have broken a mirror at some point.

At the sound of rapid footsteps and a quiet, "Crow," he glanced irritably over his shoulder to Bunny, who had stubbornly caught up to him. "I'm not normally so—"

Coming to an abrupt halt, which caused the kid to stumble into him before backing up, he crossed his arms, made the most disapproving face that he could manage—which was fairly impressive, given the amount of practice he had devoted to the art—and glared down at him. "Listen. I don't care about all this bullshit of you being a transfer, because kid, you don't look like a soldier to me. I don't know how they roll with it in the SFSG, but in the SAS, the ones like you don't last a month." Crow whipped back around and stalked out the door, muttering something about "laying out the blacks" as he left.

* * *

><p>Alex had been forewarned about Crow's dislike of newcomers to his unit, but knowing about it and witnessing it first-hand were two very different things. As the man loudly shut the door, he bit his lip before returning to where Tiger was shaking his head. "He'll cool down. Once he starts sleeping and eating regularly again, his temper should come down. Crane's death hit him hard."<p>

"Haven't they all?" Jaguar noted. "That's three this year alone."

The unit commander shrugged.

It was true, and that was the very reason Alex had chosen D-Unit of all the others lacking in numbers. Their Black Cat seat was infamous, and rather than let the chances tip towards a fresh inexperienced recruit getting placed into the notoriously risky position, he snatched it up for himself. That, and other things.

"Either way, Crow keeps up with this erratic behavior and we will be stuck on indefinite leave while he sees a psychologist. There is no way in hell that the sergeant would approve us for assignment if he refuses to behave."

"I'm sure he knows that, Tigger," –that got him some muffled sniggers from the other side of the shooting range and a sharp blow to his kneecap from the object of the unfortunate nickname—"but I'm sure that his instinctual love for absolutely everyone that walks into camp will kick in at some point." This last phrase was meant to be sarcastic, and Tiger rolled his eyes.

"Alright, he hasn't always been the easiest to handle. He's _never_ really been completely there. That should not keep him from acting like a decent person. Even the ones fresh out of Selection know that."

"Exactly! This is completely predictable behavior considering—" Tiger shot him a look that left him stuttering. "Uh, considering that…that… we don't really know our newest teammate yet." Their natural inclination was to take that moment to look at Alex, who stared questioningly back. They exchanged glances and the soldier continued, "Hey, we _are _at this perfectly nice range."

"And he already has a gun signed out," Tiger noted in an understanding tone, as if he too was glad to change subjects. "Bunny, you want to give us a demonstration?"

Seeing as his ammo supply could rival the stock of most munitions stores, he decided that there would be plenty for at least a run-of-the-mill shooting session. A fresh target was even ready on the field. He answered his unit leader with an affirmative nod as the safety he had hurriedly re-engaged minutes prior clicked back off. Deciding on his right hand, his left throbbing and weary from the long run he had put it through, Alex didn't even bother to acknowledge the target before putting it under rapid fire.

* * *

><p>Tiger felt his eyebrow raise of its own accord as Bunny started shooting completely out of the blue.<p>

Typically, and especially with the newbies, the soldiers took a moment to assess the target, get their grip comfortable and settle into a natural shooting position. Take a deep breath in to calm the nerves, and let it out right before aiming to ensure that your heartbeat doesn't offset the resulting gunshot. That was typical protocol and the way they taught it in basic.

The k-Bunny, he corrected himself—after all, he was extraordinarily competent as he had proved over and over today—was doing nothing of the sort. With a casual sideways stance that suggested he was doing something that had become second nature, and the gun held loosely with a single hand, the relocated soldier looked more like a Western gunslinger than a professional soldier in the SAS. There was no hesitation. Just one shot after the other, with quick-paced three-shot intervals.

When they pulled the target back in, the only hole visible was a single one through the forehead.

Jaguar poked a finger through it cautiously, as if he thought the bullets were still hiding in there, and peered at the back. Whistling, he stared back at a flushed Bunny. "Did you really put all fifteen shots through the _exact same spot_?"

He blushed even brighter. "Er, probably. I like to be consistent."

Jaguar whistled again. "Damn, Redbird does have good tastes."

"Who taught you to shoot that way?" Bunny almost flinched at the hard tone in Tiger's voice, and even Jaguar looked over in surprise.

"I l-learned it fr-from Thomas," he stumbled nervously, evading the soldiers' eyes, "my adoptive father, I mean m-my second adoptive dad. W-why do you ask?"

With a stare—not a glare, there was no mal-intent* there—at their youngest and newest member, he thought that this couldn't possibly be a simple coincidence. Instead of pursuing the matter further, the subject was dropped as he dispersed the tension with a shake of his head. "Cat used to shoot that way."

At that prompting, something…emotional, he couldn't figure out what…flashed across Bunny's face before disappearing into a vague expression of interest. "Really? I had no idea."

Yet while he said that with honesty, even Jaguar picked up on the surprise in his voice, as if he _should_ have known. Tiger was suddenly very interested in what _exactly_ he had done before his transfer.

And when Tiger's interest was piqued, it was hard to get between him and the answers he wanted.

* * *

><p>AN: Has it really been a week since my last update? Heh… Um, all I can say is that I've been sick, the rest of my family's been sick with something else, my twin still _is_ sick (with _something_), and I have a week's worth of antibiotics to finish before they recommend reinitiating the steroids. Prednisone in particular. Plus, I had this massive project for my probability and statistics project. *sweatdrop* Way too much for one week.

Also, a special thanks goes out to the not-so-aptly named _Smart-ass_, who brought up some very good points. I was too lazy to fix the largest one, but let it be known that I shall take that to heart in every other story. Thanks a ton! (They also gave me two reviews, which boosts my total amount for this story!)

But now I'm back. For now anyway… I'm going to bounce between this story and _Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost_, so **whoever gets me the most comments gets their story updated first**. ^^ Yay, blackmail. Could I hope for...maybe...30 reviews?

*Mal intent, mal-intent, malintent…and one of the dictionaries even had the nerve to tell me that it wasn't a word either of those three ways. Ugh. Not helpful. Well, this [mal-intent] is the way I first saw it written, so screw the dictionaries. If they can't agree, I get to pick and choose.


	3. Chapter 3

Part three of _Requiem for a Rising Star_. Sorry for the hiatus, but I had to go on sick leave for tons of reasons. But now I'm back, and I hope you like this chapter as compensation for my temporary break from writing. Also, thanks for all who reviewed in my absence. It was greatly appreciated and uplifting to get the messages.

_Note that I am posting this really early in the morning with corticosteroids screwing with my brain. Please inform me of any mistakes, no matter how small. Thanks again._

* * *

><p>"I refuse to believe that you can't let me take a quick look at my own team member's file. You let me review every other Black Cat's to make sure they had the proper skills, so why not this one?"<p>

The sergeant absently rolled a pen across the table between his fingers. "Yes. Yes, I have. We have never had any positions, other than those in X-Unit, which have suffered so many subsequent casualties. However, there is very little to his report that SFSG and Redbird have declassified. Unless you want some college grades and the results of a recent fitness exam, I don't have anything else to give you." There's nothing else I _can_ give you, he wanted to say, but kept his thoughts to himself. While he certainly wanted Doud and his MI6 affiliations out of his camp, that wasn't an option available to him at this point.

Tiger deliberated, understanding that X-Unit was trusted by many agencies to keep their operations under wraps but frustrated that he wasn't going to get his information the easy way. "I'll take what I can get."

He pulled open the unlabelled drawer and pulled out the smallest file in the section marked in orange. Rather than do the obvious and put the unit letters on their corresponding files, the sergeant had taken to memorizing them by color. That way if someone decided to sneak into his office, it would take them longer to locate an individual file, especially since he took care not to label them with their active code names. Checking that 'Jonathan Doud' was the listed name, and not another one put carelessly in the wrong area, he dumped the manila file in front of the soldier. "You can read over this, but it can't leave the room."

And yet half an hour later as he was shutting the door behind him, he still didn't think that much useful knowledge had been gleaned from it. It was as the sergeant had said. There was the usual stuff, a rather depressing family history, and an impressive military record that lacked in any detail at all. The mention of a PTSD case was the central case of his worries, tied in with the mention of a limp. If those weren't reasons to put a man out of action before he could damage either himself, or his team, further, then he didn't know what was. Just because he hadn't noticed Bunny's limp didn't mean it wasn't a bad one; only that he hid it well. As for the PTSD, he would have to bring this up before it came back to bite them in the collective rear end. The classified files would have to be addressed at a later time as well.

Until then, he had an appealing seven hours of sleeping ahead of him. D-Unit's commander covered a yawn as he trudged through the fresh layer of mud to his cabin, taking care to avoid the newly-formed puddles. They looked shallow until you got a leg stuck up to the knee. It had happened before, and it would undoubtedly happen again. As he opened the door to his cabin, his thoughts were solely on his lumpy bed…

Only to find two semi-conscious bodies being watched over by an irate Crow. When the dark-haired soldier heard the door creak open on rusted hinges, he immediately put his hands up and declared, "It wasn't me," as Tiger crossed his arms.

"Then please, _illuminate_ me as to what exactly is going on before I come to any other conclusions." This was very quickly flying downhill.

Jaguar, clutching his stomach with a grimace and sporting a nicely blackened eye, protested in favor of Crow. "Wait a second, Tigger, it really was just a misunderstanding." Tiger restrained himself from completing the murder of his teammate, but it was a near thing.

"Misunderst—"

"No, he's right. It was my fault." They turned to look at Bunny, who was huddled against his bunk keeping pressure on his knee. A cut on his lip bled sluggishly. "I mistook him for someone else. Misunderstanding."

"I have to feel seriously sorry for that someone else. That was one mean kidney jab."

Tiger's eyes flashed. "So _you_ managed to get injured all by yourself." He narrowed his eyes as Crow looked at the opposite wall and Bunny flushed.

"It's just a sprain. Twisted my knee when I stumbled over a bunk."

"Your lip's bleeding."

His face fell as he touched a finger to his lip to confirm the statement. "Uhh…"

The glare returned to Crow. "Any more explaining you'd like to do?"

"All I did was make sure you didn't return to find any corpses in here. Jag here had his ass handed to him and he'd look worse if I hadn't pulled Bunny off."

It was Jaguar's turn to look indignant. "Hey! I was doing just fine on my own."

Tiger looked down at Bunny. The young soldier wouldn't meet his eyes, even when the unit commander instructed Crow to take Jaguar to the infirmary despite Jaguar's protests. In fact, he wouldn't look up even after his two teammate's had left and Tiger pulled a first-aid kit out from beneath his bed.

"The sergeant let me look at your file," he said as he pulled a roll of athletic gauze from the white box. That got a quick glance up, but not much otherwise. "Sort of a short read. Redbird doesn't like anyone else know what he's up to in the Middle East. Apparently, the SFSG felt the same way." He watched for a reaction, but all he got was relief. Bunny had something important in those records, something that was being kept under wraps. "Why didn't you mention that you had PTSD?"

The soldier stiffened up, and it wasn't from the pain in his knee. "They put that in there?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Umm…" he rolled up the leg of his cargo pants so Tiger could apply the bandaging, "I was under the impression that it would be kept between my doctor and I."

For a second, Tiger forgot completely about their awkward conversation as he saw what had created the limp that temporarily removed Bunny from service. The damage wasn't just bad; it was extraordinarily so. "What kind of gunfight did you get into in Kandahar again?"

"A short one. I was the only one injured, just for being in the wrong place. Gopher might have been hit by a stray round, but we got everything under control fairly quickly."

The wound he was looking at, despite months of strenuous rehabilitation, was _not_ a simple gunshot wound. "This was a kneecapping, Bunny."

His questioning gaze was met with a blank look. "Sorry, a what?"

"A kneecapping. It's where someone fires at your kneecap from point blank range. A method of torture that's been banned by most places."

"Oh. Yeah, that's…sort of what happened." The young soldier's voice got so quiet that he had to listen hard to distinguish the words as Bunny fiddled with the collar of his shirt. "The man who shot me in the chest, when he moved to shoot Redbird, who was running active counterintelligence against his group, I kicked him down. He shot me in the knee so I couldn't do that again."

"I take it that incident is related to your PTSD."

"The doctor I saw, he said it would probably have this effect. But I didn't mean to lash out at Jaguar." He sat up suddenly, throwing off Tiger's work on his knee, a look in his eyes so bright that looking too closely might have blinded him and his words clearly audible. "That's never happened before. If I'd known, I would have been more careful. But it wasn't Jaguar's fault. Crow did the right thing."

"And that would be?"

The passion was replaced with wariness. "You won't mention what happened? To Crow or the sergeant?"

"If he did the right thing, then I don't see why it should be brought up."

"He kicked me in the knee and held me down, but he was right. All I could think of was Kandahar and Jaguar could have been seriously injured. I…I don't even know what I was doing."

"I won't mention this to anyone." Oh he was going to be having a chat with Crow later, and it would not be over tea and biscuits. "What do you think set it off?"

"I was tired and getting ready to hop in bed. He tapped my shoulder to ask about something. It took me by surprise, and when I turned around…his eyes…they're the same as the man who shot me. Dark brown with flecks of black and amber, calm, collected, and laughing. It set something off, and when I came back to myself, Crow had me pinned to the floor and was yelling something at me. I probably got the bloodied lip from struggling while he tried to hold me still."

Tiger leaned back as he taped off the last of the wrapping. "You've done this before, so you understand that I can't risk half my team to keep you."

"Mmhmm."

"Good. Just needed to clear the air. Keeping that in consideration, the greatest risk we actually face in D-Unit is staying on Crow's good side. Ever since the Black Cat thing started up, he's been down and moody. They must have been close, because he wasn't like this before that time. Not until Iguana replaced him. But as long as you don't die on us, the rumors about the Black Cat position will cool down and maybe it'll keep this team together. So, don't kill any allies and don't get killed." He stood up and brushed off his knees. "That's two commands. Can you do that?" A hand was offered down to a wide-eyed Bunny. "I figure you're new to some of these things, so we can build our way up from that."

The half-smile that was slowly becoming familiar to him returned to the young soldier's face. "Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>"Can you show me how you did that again?"<p>

"The kidney jab?"

"Yeah, that one. It was really cool how you immobilized me with one hit."

"Oh, Redbird showed me that one. It's really easy."

Tiger was standing by the wall of the secluded training mat. Most days, you could walk into the long building and see multiple sets of partners sparring against each other, the body bags or waiting their turn over to the side. With the extended rest period they had while recruiters did their worst to the candidates, many units were lazing around and recuperating. All of them, except the shorter half of D-Unit.

In their sleeveless white tees and black shorts, Jaguar's bruised and blackened eye and the bandages encasing Bunny's knee stood out starkly despite their mutual inattention to the fact. Despite being the unit medic, Jaguar wasn't all too concerned with giving wounds time to heal or worrying about long-term effects. Bunny, the only health conscious one on the mat, was lightly throwing hits at nerve centers, demonstrating how exactly they felt and how to counter them without mutilating yourself in the process.

Crow padded silently over to stand beside Tiger, who took no notice of the sniper until he let out a soft snort. "Does he really think we'll ever need that?"

Tiger chose not to let that distract his focus. "Crow, I've been meaning to speak with you about last night."

"And I've already said that I didn't do anything."

"I have evidence to the contrary. You assaulted a fellow teammate."

"I was helping Jaguar. That…_kid_ was going to strangle him if I didn't stop it. I just gave him a kick to get him off and held him down." Tiger's brows furrowed. "I'm not making things up."

"No, that fits with what Bunny said. I'm telling you this, because he didn't want you to receive any repercussions for what he thought were justly taken actions. These aren't the first actions you've taken against a teammate, but if you want to stay in SAS, they will be the last."

Gritting his teeth, Crow nodded. "I'll play nice, but it doesn't change the fact that that kid isn't who you think he is. He's trying to deceive all of us. Trying, and doing a helluva job."

"I respect your opinion, but there will be no personal vendettas on this team. I will not have you taking pot shots at a soldier just because he's another Black Cat."

"It's not bec—"

"Really? Because this has happened with you and every replacement since Cat. A few heated conversations that escalate into fights in the mess hall. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were asking for retirement."

"I'm not," he growled.

"You're not what?"

They both looked…well, down…to see a pair of large brown eyes staring back up at them. Further behind him, Jaguar was just emerging from the training mat with a towel over his head, and his black eye looking even darker.

Crow narrowed his eyes, but wisely refrained from handing out any remarks in front of Tiger. "I'm not going to murder insignificant little toy soldiers in their sleep." He glanced sideways at his commander before leaving.

"Is it because I'm replacing Cat?"

Tiger just shook his head. "I don't think he's ever really been right since Cat. It's not that he doesn't like you, he's just a little lonely."

Bunny nodded, and turned back to run after Crow.

"Wai—," he changed his mind and let him go. Tiger's target changed. "Jaguar. Your eye gets any blacker, and it'll turn into a black hole."

"I doubt that, Tigger." He avoided the boot, but didn't have the reflexes to duck for the second one. The blow took him to the forehead, conveniently above his bruised eye. "Oww! You could've aimed for my knee!"

"Yeah, well, can't particularly aim with combat boots. Besides, I'd like to see a black hole close up."

* * *

><p>"Crow!"<p>

It took three calls before the sniper acknowledged the soldier trailing him. "What do you want?"

Bunny stopped in front of him, almost uncomfortably close. Crow was tempted to take a step or two back just to put distance between them.

"Your brother. He wouldn't want you to be like this, you know."

"The hell do you know about Xion?" Without thinking, he took that step backwards.

The kid found the stump of a long-dead tree by the side of the path and made himself comfortable. "A lot more than you realize. In fact, probably more than you do."

"Now wait a second, runt. I don't care who you are, but that gives you no right to dredge up the past."

"Friendly fire, right? Not even an honorable way to leave the field. Just a miscalculation. One of those accidents they'll cover up and hide from the media. He got a medal in there too. Depressing circumstances really."

"Shut up!"

"That was who Cat really was, so why didn't you tell anyone else? They'd probably understand."

"It's none of your business, so fuck off."

"Except you weren't there when he died, when he was gunned down. You _saw_ someone get shot a whole lot of times," he pushed on aimlessly, "but you never got a good look at his face. Not when the paramedics dragged him away. Not when he lived for a couple moments on oxygen in the ambulance. Not _even_ when you were at his funeral. Your own brother, and they had the casket closed."

Crow scuffed his boots along the ground, violently sending a rock off the dirt path. "Bloody conjecture, the bunch of it. What's it to you, anyway?"

"Me? I just want to put some old skeletons to rest. Especially this Black Cat seat. It isn't good for business when the newbies get here, and the idea of bad luck scares them off before the war."

"Yeah? So what's your end in this? Disproving bad luck?"

"Bad luck? There's no luck involved in this." Bunny peeled off one of his boots and shook out a load of dust and dirt. "I'm here to flush out the guy killing off your new recruits." He peeked inside the footwear before dumping it on the ground and sliding his foot back in, brushed himself off, and stood up. "And I'm sticking my head into your business because you know more than you're letting on, and I want to know why."

* * *

><p>"Wolf. You're back from holiday?"<p>

Tiger wasn't expecting such a negative reaction from the most jubilant unit in SAS. K-Unit had been one of the last groups to arrive. That could have been attributed to the ice packs and sling on Snake, but it also could have been a general reluctance to return to 'Hell.' The latter was looking less and less likely as this conversation proceeded. "More than ready to be back," Wolf replied while the rest of his team cringed. He raised an eyebrow. "Have to say that I agree. We might actually have found a viable person to fill in Dolphin's spot."

"Oh reeeeally," commented the ever-sarcastic Eagle as he picked himself up from the ground. "How much did you bribe this one with?"

"Actually, we had ourselves a volunteer. Bloody good one on top of that. Bunny might outlive all the rest of us."

That, of course, got Eagle to nearly choke to death laughing. "Bunny? Who the _hell_ gave that poor guy his name?"

"Well at least you have someone to balance the comedy out in your unit," Wolf said with a forced straight face, as the only one not catching the giggles. Yet.

He rolled his eyes. _Kindergartners_. "I've heard all the jokes, guys. Grow up. He's been in SAS a year already." Tiger happened to catch a glimpse of Bunny at that moment. It wasn't hard. With his child-like frame and skittish demeanor around strangers, the neon blinking sign above his head said 'I'm lost'. As it started to pour, the sky going dark with clouds, he waved to get the soldier's attention. "He gets lost so easily that I'm impressed he can find the cabin every night. Bunny!"

The cap-encased head perked up in response to his name. He pushed through the small throng to jog over to K-Unit's cabin. "Could you point me to the shooting range again?"

"Right over that way," he said, pointing in the indicated direction. "Just follow the sounds of gunfire. Jaguar's headed there too. If you catch sight of him, go where he goes."

"Thanks, Tigger."

Their damn medic was rubbing off on him. Just to keep things even, he whacked him over the head. The small gesture of recognition between them was enough to make even Bunny smirk.

"Bunny," they both looked over at Wolf, who was in turn looking quite ominously at the young soldier, "how'd you get the bad leg?" Not only their commander, but Eagle and Falcon were now taking curious glances as well.

"I was with X-Unit in Kandahar up until four months ago." Bunny responded in his usual low tone. "Been stuck in rehab pretty much since"

Tiger put a hand heavily on the soldier's shoulder, careful to make sure that Bunny had seen it before it landed. He still felt the flinch, nonetheless. "He's lucky he kept the leg at all, much less survived the gunfight. Nice bundle of scars to go with it. X-Unit's taking in someone else, so we snatched Bunny from them."

Wolf seemed unusually pale, while Eagle simply whistled his admiration. "You are either the bravest guy I've met, or the stupidest. At least you guys aren't in Kandahar this time around."

"Don't scare him into running off on us." Bunny was tensed up at the drawn out encounter with K-Unit, so he pointed out his destination again before shooing him in the right direction. Snake and Bunny passed each other as K-Unit's medic returned to the porch minus the wraps on his arm, and some look was instantaneously exchanged between them.

"Did Eagle put something in my water this morning," he frowned, directing the question at Wolf, "or was that—?"

"Bunny. That was D-Unit's newest addition, Bunny."

That got a lot of confusion from Snake, but judging from the expressions from the entire team, it was a shared mix of confusion. When he finally regained the ability to speak, it was simply, "Oh. New recruit, huh."

Tiger got the distinct and portentous feeling that this incident would be only the second or third in a long string of events to occur around Bunny.

Maybe the Black Cat seat was jinxed after all.

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A/N: Oh god, I am so sorry for the gigantanormous wait that you wonderful reviewers and readers had to suffer through. I started this over two weeks ago, and since then…well, that infection has tied in with some of my other, more permanent issues, just to screw with me. So now I'm on a horrible diet (meat, fish, rice and carrots…oh yes, and water of course) and a new loooooong list of corticosteroids, booster packs, antibiotics, you name it. So just imagine all of the side effects that six new drugs, on top of my extensive regular rounds, can do to a single person… It sucks. Really it does.

So while my body adjusts to the new rounds of medication, and the uber-restrictive diet, my posts are going to be far in between. I can't do _anything_ about this. I still have school, people, and a birthday quickly approaching in which I will not be allowed to eat cake. Or ice cream. Or even those little, chocolate-covered cookies. *depression* My life sucks...but you could make it better by reviewing! I can't promise a faster update, but I can do my damnedest to try.

Note: Thanks to _wolfern_ and a couple anonymous others for correcting my grammar issues and spelling mistakes! Love you guys!

_Thanks so so so so much to all my reviewers, once again. You guys make it this much more appealing to wrack my brain for ideas rather than sitting around all fall break. Every single review makes this worthwhile!_


	4. Chapter 4

Part four of _Requiem for a Rising Star_. Holy _fudge-sicles_! 74 reviews? I love you guys! So those corticosteroids, umm, didn't work… *cough* Yeah. But guess what? There are always more steroids. Thus, my new run of medications begins. I'm feeling better already, and even though I should be planning out my Rube Goldberg for physics, the hell with that. I want to type, so I'm going to type! Goooooo Bunny!

* * *

><p>"You guys acquainted?" The dumbfounded stare that Snake had been following Bunny with as he disappeared from sight made him curious, and the rest of K-Unit was giving the young soldier similar attention.<p>

Wolf shook his head. "I don't think so. Just…looks like a kid we used to know."

Tiger raised a doubtful eyebrow, but let the matter slide. "Whatever. Snake, someone mentioned that you know something about psychology."

The medic crossed his arms, wincing as he pressed too hard against his healing arm and let them fall back down to his side. "I'm not licensed, but I minored in the basics. Why?"

The sudden visit by D-Unit's commander to K-Unit had not been entirely spurred by their mutual friendship or desire to know how they had spent their 'holiday'. Topping his list of concerns was, in fact, Bunny's short flashbacks. The night before last he and the rest of D-Unit had been startled from their sleep by loud cries and the thump of flesh on wood. Bunny had been in the grips of a nightmare—or memory—convinced someone was shooting at him and trying to flee the cabin. It was mere luck that he had been unable to remember which wall the door was built into. Crow had pinned him to the wall by his neck, keeping his arms tightly behind his back to keep him from bloodying his hands further. When Bunny came out of his fit, he had no memory of the events once again, momentarily even forgetting where he was.

It was looking like the Black Cat seat was going to claim another victim, but not in the way they had initially feared.

"I…don't want to say names in front of the rest of your unit, but would you be willing to open a temporary private practice? I came into the possession of some information that a soldier might be suffering severe post-traumatic stress disorder."

His intention had been to keep his teammate's condition anonymous to as many people as possible, so it inevitably took him by surprise when Wolf and Snake both muttered, "Bunny," under their breath. Their word would have been rendered inaudible had they not said it simultaneously.

"Wait, how did you figure that out?"

Eagle perked up. "I got it! That makes Bunny Alex!"

Wolf kicked their oblivious teammate back on to his rear end in the dirt, and Falcon sighed into his fist. Subtlety was not their strong suit.

* * *

><p>Bunny and Crow had grown an abnormal, and logic-defying, attachment almost overnight. Their teammates took this as yet another symptom of Bunny's worsening condition.<p>

It wasn't that they were holding hands or sharing lollypops, but the death-glares on Crow's part had suddenly subsided and he didn't immediately walk out of a room once realizing that Bunny was in it. When the sniper vanished for the night—presumably spending it at the shooting range, as per routine—the young soldier stepped out with him. Not only that, but they were paying each other more attention. It was a wary glance every now and again on both sides; attention, nonetheless. Little things, but a huge step forwards from the rest of D-Unit's perspective. Or a sharp fall back. It was too early to tell.

And when Tiger strode back to his unit's cabin, Snake shadowing behind him, which was exactly what Jaguar was precariously watching through one of their dusty windows. "Do you think he's sick?" Jaguar not-so-quietly asked him. "Or maybe both of them have some kind of degenerative disease that's fatally inflicting total insanity upon their brains."

He scoffed. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the medic." Not that it kept him from sidling up to the window and peeking in. "What are they doing, anyway?"

"_Talking_. Can you believe it? They've just been sitting in there, making perfectly civilized conversation."

"The whole time?"

"The whole time."

"…Okay, that is pretty unbelievable, but I can't just sit out here waiting for them to finish their little tea party." He stood up and swung the door open without bothering to knock, but making sure to take a step to the side before the pencils aimed for his neck shot through the air, embedding their sharpened carbon tips in the doorframe. Snake had stumbled back at the loud thuds, assuming they were bullets from their speed.

"Sorry, I can't seem to stop doing that." Crow stood from his bunk to walk back to the restroom as Bunny apologized yet again, leaving the room empty except for the two of them.

"No problem. It keeps me on my toes. Luckily for you, we have our very own psychologist here at camp."

The soldier shook his head. "There is no way I'm talking to some stranger about my private life. I can handle it on my own."

Tiger put his hands on his hips, as if he were a mother imparting vast wisdom upon an ignorant child. "As you so nicely demonstrated, you clearly can't. And he's apparently not a stranger to you, judging by K-Unit's reactions.

* * *

><p>Alex tried to contain his desire to massacre his former unit in their sleep. It was a near thing.<p>

Snake stepped in the door, wary of any further sharp airborne projectiles. That was before he caught sight of Alex. "You—!" His medic death glare—formally referred to as the 'eternal-damnation-glare-by-mother-hen'—nearly caught the cabin on fire. "Okay, session begins now."

"Are you trying to fix me or rip my head off?" he muttered in an aside.

"We'll roll dice on that later. Before then," Snake pushed Tiger out of the hut and slammed close the door, "evacuate innocent bystanders." They carefully studied the window and door, waiting to see if someone would try to watch. A full minute later, it appeared to be clear. "Okay, on to the torture session."

"I thought we were rolling dice on that."

"Not a chance. What in the name of all things holy are you doing here, and with D-Unit no less?"

"Classif—."

"And don't give me that 'it's classified'. Between you and Fox, we can shoot that down altogether."

The soldier/spy rolled his eyes and fell back on his bunk with a muffled thump, intently staring at the cracks littering the ceiling "I'm just getting the gears oiled back up. If spying's out of the question, then I have to find _something_ to do with all of this free time. Watching the tele just gets so boring after the first week."

Snake crossed his arms. "You didn't answer the second part of the question."

"Not much to it. There was a unit with an empty seat, I grabbed it, end of story."

"You, of all people, _happen_ to get put in the Black Cat seat? That's just stupid."

"Coincidences do happen."

"Sure, they happen all the time. Just not where you're concerned. I hope you don't tell me that you spent all your free time after the surgery studying up on the most danger oriented positions in SAS. Please tell me you didn't."

"Umm…"

"If I have to fix you up _again_, you had better watch your morphine line very carefully, because it might get mysteriously disconnected or forgotten."

Snake's eyes flickered to the window, where a shadow vanished just as fast as it had appeared.

"Don't worry. It's soundproof. And they can't hear much through the door. It gets all jumbled, and it would look really strange to see someone with their ear on the floor of their own cabin."

"D-Unit isn't exactly overly protective of their image."

"I get that feeling," he shot back wryly.

"Enough of the pleasantries, Alex."

"I'm not Alex Rider. The name's Jonathan Doud."

There was an exchange of one disbelieving look for a dead set one.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Had to switch identities to get in to SAS. You didn't honestly believe they were sinking so low as to recruit minors, did you?"

Snake stole Crow's bunk for the moment. "I think you need to fill me in so we don't give you away. How old did you say you were?"

"Twenty-four. And it wasn't me who did all the paperwork. I left that mostly to MI6 and some of the guys buried in the SAS. They're good at that kind of thing."

"But you said you weren't working for them anymore."

"I said I wasn't a spy."

Their silent exchange started back up again.

"You had better not be serious."

"About what? And what's this 'we' business? The rest of you guys aren't getting involved in this too."

"You couldn't actually have thought that you could walk in here, the place that we're actually _employed_, and think that we weren't going to catch on to you at some point? What do we look like, empty-headed cheerleaders?"

He didn't dignify that with a response, sticking to merely recalling Ben's comment: brawns, not brain. "If Tiger hadn't dragged me over for introductions, I would have evaded you a lot longer."

"Filling in the blanks? How much of what you told Tiger was true?"

"Well, I said I was over with X-Unit doing intel and small jobs in Kandahar. Tiger thinks I was with the SFSG and Redbird picked me up when they needed someone to fill in a vacated seat. Which isn't true, of course. Make sure Wolf doesn't bring up what he was doing with X-Unit, because our stories won't mesh. Records say they do, but you know records. My knee got busted up at the same time as my chest got scarred, in a gunfight, and the rest of the stuff was from a car bombing, also with the SFSG. D-Unit thinks I have PTSD from getting shot up in Kandahar, and that's pretty much it."

"Okay, that's somewhat believable except that Jaguar isn't so hopeless that he won't be able to date those scars to much sooner than you say they were. He might not have gone to medical school, but anyone with an eye for wounds could see the anomaly in your story."

"Which is why he won't be doing a physical anytime soon. I have PTSD, remember?"

Snake sighed, running a hand over his face. "You've covered that base, I take it?"

"Oh yes, and it was quite clever."

"I won't ask. So how does K-Unit fit into your picture? Tiger knows that we know you."

"I figured as much." They paused as Crow walked aimlessly back through the room to the front door, shutting it behind him as he left. "Don't worry about him. We've got an agreement."

"I get the feeling that I won't like the terms of this 'agreement' very much."

"Which is why I won't mention it again. So I can say that I met up with K-Unit at some point while I was with the SFSG. With a little digging, I'm sure that there was a point where you worked with them within the last three years. And before that I was with the RAF, so maybe our paths crossed then as well."

"I can see why you were a spy."

"It's a fun job, once you get over the cons."

"I will have to take your word for that. But if you didn't get assigned the Black Cat seat by MI6, then how did you get it?"

"Interestingly enough, it was mostly coincidence. I did find out about D-Unit's little issue with keeping their so-called Black Cats alive and built a profile somewhat matching their previous members, but getting in wasn't entirely my idea. Why stick yourself in the position when you could watch someone else?"

"Now you're sounding downright evil, Alex."

"Get used to calling me Doud. Tiger knows my full name. But someone else pushed the buttons to get me the Black Cat seat. My aim was for X-Unit's permanent spot, because they do more with spying than actual fighting and they'll be docking here at some point this week. Much more fun."

"That's an awful lot of coincidences." His words were laden with suspicion, but the medic was actually getting interested. This matter was perking his curiosity.

"It's what worries me the most." The teenager's eyes became strangely distant, almost clouded, for the briefest of moments as his words trailed off to a whisper. His hands tightened on another newly sharpened pencil and his breathing sped up. All at once, the weight in the air lifted and the #2 pencil was buried in his backpack once more. "Anything else you need?"

"We need to talk about that PTSD."

"That's just part of my cover, Snake. I don't _actually_ have PTSD."

"Maybe not, but when your dissociative amnesia starts clearing up, it's going to manifest much the same way that PTSD does in soldiers. We might as well treat it the same, because from what little Tiger conveyed to me, it looks like it's clearing up quicker than you realize."

Alex sat up on his bunk, pulling the knee that wasn't wrapped up to his chest. "There have only been two instances, and Crow's watching for them now so it won't be as bad."

"There are multiple things I disagree about in that statement, and Crow getting along with anyone is at the bottom of my list. Whatever gave you those scars is going to flood back all at once after the first bits trickle out increasingly faster, and if you're already having problems controlling that, the whiplash of everything else won't be pretty to see."

After a short deliberation, he nodded reluctantly. "Fine, but I'm sticking to the story that it's PTSD."

"Then I need to go for story time with Wolf, Eagle and Falcon. I'm sure they'll enjoy doing the Cloak and Dagger stuff much more than you think. Frankly, it should make BB much more exciting."

"I'm glad this amuses you," Alex said as he sprawled back out on the bed. "And before I forget, did you ever see Cat? In person?"

"The one that was killed from D-Unit?" He nodded. "Maybe once or twice in passing. Why?"

"No reason. How about Wolf or Eagle?"

"Probably the same, I assume, but I can ask. Is it important?"

"Not really. Just curious, since he seems to have set off this chain reaction. Crow either knows less about his teammate than he thinks, or doesn't realize that there are things he should be telling me that he isn't."

"You don't think he's hiding things on purpose?"

"Crow? Never. He doesn't act like the friendliest guy, but he has his own reasons. Now shoo. I have to take a nap now if I have to go with him to the range every single night. I'm not as young as I used to be."

Rather than protest, the medic rubbed the back of his neck. "What should I tell Tiger?"

"Exactly what he wants to hear. You're going to do everything you can, and I'll be shiny as new within a couple weeks. Also, he might want to take showers more often. Scents bring back memories even better than sight or touch, and the man has one strong smell."

* * *

><p>Tiger unfolded his arms as Snake emerged looking weary and as if he had just run his head into the nearest wall over and over in frustration. "What's the prognosis?"<p>

"Give me some time and I can get a band-aid on this. Being in the same place with Redbird for so long was probably as much torture as the shooting itself."

"He does know that X-Unit was one of the units invited back, doesn't he?"

A look of dismay crossed the medic's face. "I don't know. That might not help. When's their ETA?"

"Next week, week after. You know Redbird as well as me. I take it that we should keep some distance between them and Bunny for as long as possible?"*

"As best as you can. Maybe by then I'll have done some good." He muttered something about 'damn brats' and 'conspiracies', but waved a hand before Tiger could ask. "I need to speak with Wolf about some things. If he runs into any more problems, send someone to get me up."

"Did your unit know him well?" It was strange that they hadn't mentioned it immediately upon seeing him, and even more surprising that Wolf's reaction had been to cover it up.

"Somewhat. Falcon served with him for two years in the RAF on and off, and before Fox switched to the Dark Side, we were working with a patchwork unit from the SFSG when the group was just forming. What was that, four years ago?"

"Five," he corrected.

"Yeah, but it looks like he hasn't grown an inch since…" the medic trailed off** as he seemed to catch sight of something a good distance away. "Who's that over there?"

Tiger whipped around, trying to pinpoint what he was supposed to be seeing. A solitary figure was perched on the side of the hill, fingering some kind of flower in his hand. His gaze was to the west, perpendicular to their own. "You mean Crow?"

"I know perfectly well who that is. No, there was someone else back there, near the fencing. He was wearing the regular camo gear, but I didn't recognize him from this distance."

"Probably a straggler from the potential recruits or one of the looser groups." In contrast to his words, he risked another peek back up the small mound, meeting Crow's own. "No one up there now, anyway."

"Trick of the light, maybe," he dismissed with a grunt. "Have to report back to Wolf. While Falcon's wonderful as Eagle's babysitter, we have to try especially hard not to let him drive Wolf loony." Without a backward glance, Snake dashed back to his own cabin as he noted the raised voices emanating from the open window; that, and the man flying out their front door.

Try as he might, Tiger couldn't escape the feeling that he was missing something astoundingly obvious, some secret that was clear to everyone but him. It did him no further good to be awoken just half an hour after dawn to the sound of Jaguar yelling that Crow and Bunny had not returned from their late night of shooting. Six hours later, as the pair headed for the mess hall, their teammates were still MIA.

* * *

><p>AN: *sobs* I wanted to write more, seeing as this one saw such minimal action, but tons of horribly-timed bad luck just struck all within a couple hours (as you can follow in the asterisks below, if you so wish). So how did you like it? A little shorter and full of conversation than I would have liked, but with blurry vision, one hand for typing, and having to wake up for school in five hours sort of pushed my deadline if I wanted this posted now. Sorry~! Now review! I beseech it of you!

*Right about here, my glasses broke. Now all the words are fuzzy, and _NightmareWorld_ is going to be checking over my shoulder for me. You also have her to thank for the sacrifice of her battery to fuel my laptop, as mine fizzled out last night. I have to go figure out which mirror I broke…

**And this is where I lost the use of my right hand (don't ask…). *facekeyboards* I can't feel my fingers!


	5. Chapter 5

Part five of _Requiem for a Rising Star_. I'm so so so so so sosososososo sorry for that…er…months-long hiatus, but I signed up for this class that requires hand-written notes and all my (twenty-five pages of) notes had been typed and if I didn't turn them in hand-written he wouldn't have even given me my test so I had to transcribe every one of them and then I got sick (on two separate occasions) and it's been a generally busy break. -_-' Sorry for the rant, too. _Not All That Is Over Is Past_ will hopefully be updated soon also.

The most ironic part of this is that the only reason I got this chapter done was because I had a huge allergic reaction last night, slept for fifteen hours, and then ignored the looming pile of homework from yesterday and today. Thank goodness for procrastination. XD

This is a little short…but I do still have work to do. TT_TT

* * *

><p>"Where could they have gone?" Jaguar was squatting with his hands on his knees, gathering his breath in preparation for another run. He had checked the shooting range, mess hall in case the two had come in late, and all three training areas. "There aren't that many places in Brecon Beacons, unless they went out on one of the courses."<p>

Tiger sat on the porch of D-Unit's cabin, looking generally pissed. Crow and Bunny had been missing for half the day, and possibly since they'd left dinner the previous night. Without a set schedule in place until the end of the week, news of their sudden disappearance hadn't spread beyond their unit. That was how they had intended it to stay, for now.

"Did Turtle mention seeing either of them yesterday?" Turtle—aka Mr. Simms—had retired from the SAS for ten years until he was invited back to run the shooting range. It was rumored that he lived behind the sign-in counter and never slept. Even Crow ran into him during his late night/early morning sessions.

"Sort of. He said Crow was about to sign in—a couple minutes after he and Bunny left the mess hall if I had remembered the times correctly—when he was distracted by something and said that he would be right back. Turtle hasn't seen him since."

"Bunny wasn't with him?"

"Not that he saw, but I told him that everything was fine. The three of us were just looking for Bunny, since he got lost last night coming up to shoot."

"That's good, and not good. If we don't find them by the end of the day, though, I'm telling the sergeant." Tiger tilted his head to look past Jaguar's shoulder. Despite most of the soldiers going to grab lunch, one of the taller, broad shouldered ones was walking perpendicular to the flow.

Jaguar turned to see what he was looking at. "Wolf, what are you doing here?"

When he was close enough, K-Unit's commander said, "I need to talk to Bunny."

The two exchanged a cautious glance. "He's…not here right now," Tiger creatively replied.

"He's getting checked by the doctor." They were all taken by surprise when the new voice entered the conversation and swiveled to see the speaker stepping down from D-Unit's cabin. "Bunny ran into a tree when we were coming back from lunch. The doctor should let him out shortly."

"Crow," he said irritably, "where _have_ you two been?"

"Watching the obstacle course. Bunny thought it was fun to watch the candidates fall into the mud and dragged me along." Tiger and Jaguar refrained from correcting him only because Wolf was present, but it was evident from the fact that he was sitting on the cabin porch, reclining against a supporting beam, rather than standing that he and Bunny hadn't been traipsing around in the woods laughing at the potential recruits.

"Ran into a tree, you said?" Jaguar quickly asked, keeping the atmosphere light "How did he manage that feat? There aren't even all that many trees out here to begin with."

Crow shrugged. "Beats me. Nearly knocked himself out, too."

* * *

><p>"And <em>why<em> am I approving of this…visit?"

The sergeant had hoped—_hoped_—that all of this craziness would die down at least temporarily while the candidates were doing their midmorning obstacle course and subsequent run, to get some of his own work finished. It looked like this day was only going to sink further down the drain. The college kid with the American accent, silver earring and messy blond-streaked hair, in blue jeans no less, was the source of his current frustration.

"John hasn't been himself since Afghanistan, I'm afraid," he was saying in a sad tone, "and our mother's been worrying about him ever since he left again. I just want to make sure he's keeping himself together, not making any trouble for you. And if he's running into trees, as you mentioned, then maybe I need to make sure nothing's wrong." He clasped his hands behind his back as he flashed a bright smile. "Wouldn't want to cause Mom any unnecessary worry."

Yes, this had been _exactly_ how he did _not_ want his day to go. First, some strange reports from the set of nurses who had been on duty this morning, and now…

"We would never want to cause _parents_ any _worry_." The unsaid meanings were unmistakable.

The college kid beamed, his long bangs getting into his face as he nodded his appreciation. "Thanks a ton, Serge! It'll only be for the day. After that, I'll get out of your hair."

"Good," he grunted, making a shooing gesture. "You know where to go?"

"Of course. I could sense my brother's whereabouts if he was still in the Middle East."

The sergeant rolled his eyes.

* * *

><p>"Wait," Wolf demanded, shaking his head. "He actually <em>ran into a tree<em>?"

Crow nodded, despite the incredulous looks burning through him. "That's Bunny for you. I didn't think the SAS could take in so many klutzes, but there seems to be room for one more." His shoulder was still throbbing, despite the butterfly stitches the nurse had applied. The bruise would certainly draw attention. He would have to make an excuse to take showers before anyone else. If he was lucky, by the time his unit was required to do the swimming course, it would have healed. This business with Bunny was becoming surprisingly interesting.

Looking past Jaguar's shoulder, he raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Translating the verbal cues of Crow was now a fine art to Tiger, and that was the equivalent of Jaguar's jaw dropping to the ground before he keeled over in laughter. Tiger turned around to see what he was watching.

And nearly had the same reaction himself.

The man walking around in jeans, rather than fatigues, with brightly streaked hair and whistling a tune that he didn't recognize was practically screaming 'I don't belong here.' In reality, it could have just been the melodic tones that set him apart. Unless you were clinically insane, intoxicated, or Eagle, there was no way anyone could find it in themselves to make such happy sounds in this Welsh hell called Brecon Beacons.

Wolf and Jaguar mimicked his motion.

"How did _that guy_ get in here?" Wolf said, looking suspiciously over at Crow with a dumbfounded expression. Jaguar and Tiger, suddenly spurred by K-Unit's commander, also spent a glance back at their teammate before putting their attention back towards the spectacle that had seemingly wandered into the deepest pits of hell with a much-too-cheerful attitude towards it.

"Well it wasn't me," Jaguar declared. "Even my little brother doesn't look like…well…_that_."

Tiger skipped over trying to decide what Jaguar was implicating to watch where the non-soldier was headed. "Wait, is he going where I think he's going?"

Wolf shook his head, a smirk growing of its own accord. "I think someone has some more explaining to do, if he's not too busy with his own…_people_."

* * *

><p>Alex shooed the hovering nurse away, rubbing irritably at the fresh stitches. It wasn't so much that they itched, but that he wanted them to heal and hide the evidence of his humiliating experience. If certain people got a hold of this incident, it would be the largest amount of blackmail ever accumulated against him. "I've had these before. Don't worry, miss."<p>

It was an underhanded method, but she blushed and gave him his space. "Try not to itch at the bandages then, _sir_," she returned, to which he muttered a "touché" with a little wink in her direction. The moment she was out of viewing range, he lightly scratched the edges of the two that had been closed with butterfly stitches.

"Hey, didn't the pretty lady tell you not to do that?"

Just the words—the very _way_ he spoke—was almost enough to make him flinch. _Almost_. If he hadn't had this time at BB as an extended exercise to keep his emotions reigned in, he might have fallen off the bed.

When he twisted on the hospital bed to glare at the source of the Americanized accent, he actually did let the corner of his left eye twitch. "You."

The disturbingly cheerful individual with his green Aeropostale hoodie, 'artistically' torn skinny jeans and grey and blue Converse shoes adorning his six-foot-one self. The streaked hair and earring didn't add much more to the teenager-going-on-college look except further accentuate it. "Me," he cleverly returned.

They looked simultaneously at the nurse, who was giving her own stunned expression. "It's not what you think," Alex said in a desperate yet no-nonsense voice, just as the new arrival spoke up with, "Could you leave us alone for a second?" Despite her patient's words, she smiled sweetly at the pair in front of her. "Of course! Don't you two worry about me. I'll let you have your privacy for a couple minutes." She returned the wink back to its owner, who immediately felt his cheeks flush.

She left thinking how cute they looked together, not seeing Alex pinch his nose and give the young man a punch to the shoulder.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten me, the wonderful Thomas*? I bet it was the earring. I've been told that it makes me into a whole new person." He pulled an overly dramatic pose.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Aww, that's not the way to treat your older brother."

His irritable look turned skeptical. "_You're_ supposed to be my _brother_?"

"Of course not, silly! That was just what I told the Serge." He grinned, and Alex's heart fell.

"Please don't tell me this is the revenge you want to exact upon me. What terrible thing did I do that made you go to such extreme measures? Is it my soul? Do you want my soul?"

"And here I just came to see how you were playing with the other kids. _Mom_ was so _worried_ about you after that call. I see you aren't getting on so well with the nearby trees."

Alex groaned. "I'm doing just fine, trees and all."

"Good! Then I can go with you to meet your unit. I've heard so much about them. You absolutely _must_ introduce us!"

"Absolutely not. Go back and tell _Mom _that. I have an image to uphold."

His words went unheeded as minutes later he found himself being forcibly dragged by his hand back to D-Unit's cabin. "How do you even know where we're supposed to be going," he finally relented.

"Just following you," Thomas smiled, and Alex rolled his eyes. This guy was being ridiculous. He couldn't _wait_ to see how his unit would react.

* * *

><p>And that was how Wolf and D-Unit first saw the pair. It was somewhat self-explanatory with the two of them holding hands, Bunny's face flushed an angry pink and walking at a fast pace beside the oddly cheerful newcomer, as if he was trying to leave him behind. The small soldier barely came up to the stranger's shoulders, only adding to the differences of the mismatched pair.<p>

Jaguar whistled while they were still out of hearing range. "Looks like you were right, Wolf. Bunny's got himself a visitor. I didn't even know we could _have_ visitors."

"Doesn't look like Bunny knew that either," Tiger noted, crossing his arms. "How old is he again?"

"If he's old enough to be in the SAS," Jaguar noted, "then he's old enough to have a boyfriend, mother-dearest." He must have enjoyed concussions, because at the rate he was going, that was the least he could expect to receive. Tiger obliged him.

"Bunny," he yelled once he felt his teammate was close enough to hear him, "Does the sergeant know you're bringing friends over?"

The pink darkened and would have spread up his ears had he not had his cap on. He nodded rapidly in wordless response.

Hearing the same question—of course—his visitor gave Tiger two thumbs up with a broad smile. Bunny punched him in the shoulder, and none too lightly by the speed with which his hands went back down.

It took only a minute for the pair to get close enough for Jaguar to start pummeling them with questions. The young man raised his arms in surrender. "I'm good, but not that good. One at a time!"

Tiger, arms still crossed in suspicion and dislike of the person who acted eerily worse than Eagle on a normal day, managed to beat his curious teammate to the not-so-literal punch. "How did you get in here and why?" Might as well get the basics out of the way.

His face dropped the exuberant pretense as he drew out his wallet. "I happen to know the sergeant both as a mentor and confidant when I spent some time here as part of my training in Delta Force—" a card with the American reincarnation of the British SAS "—and again a few years later when I switched to the CIA." He materialized the second card seemingly from thin air.

With the eye of a professional, he analyzed the two cards. The first had a barcode on the back, three letters followed by ten numbers, and two official seals—the Department of Defense and Delta Force—impressed on opposite sides with color-shifting ink.

The second, on the contrary, was stark black with a crystalline trim that encased thin multi-colored threads. It had no sign of verifiable identity, other than looking generally cool. Noting his expression, the self-proclaimed CIA agent suggested, "Hold it between your thumb and index finger." With an I-am-not-falling-for-this-stupidity look, he still did exactly that. The dark surface lit up to a white screen, and faint blue lines tracing his finger for a couple seconds before bringing up his name and personal records, including his full unabridged service record and the names of family members and 'known associates,' on a scrollable list. "Convinced?"

He handed the card back with an appreciative yet unimpressed snort. He'd worked with intelligence—both British and foreign—in the field, but it was rare for them to show off their toys. From what he'd seen of them, however, this wasn't beyond their capabilities. "That's your ID card?"

"They don't give identification cards, but that was the closest I could think of."

"So how do you prove it's yours and not the guy you stole it from?"

He smiled serenely and copied Tiger's movements, placing it between his finger and thumb. Blue onscreen lines played beneath his finger, tracing the print just as it had before, and went black. "Would the CIA really give me something that an enemy could identify me with? I'm the only person it won't show an information screen for."

Tiger gave a 'hmmph' but nodded. "You didn't answer my second question."

"Obviously," he returned his slim pocket to a back pocket and slung an arm around Bunny, smiling widely, "I'm here to visit my adorable boyfriend. Of course, I told Serge he was my little brother so he'd let me in. Plus, his mother had a message for me to pass on, so I got a flight over the first vacation I got."

Tiger had to let the information blow over his head for a minute, using the same part of his brain that processed Eagle's bursts of speech. Jaguar, who frequently spoke with both Eagle and Falcon from K-Unit, took less time to rebound with, "Do you have a name, or do I just have to label you as 'The American Agent'?"

"I'm Thomas, but the only people who call me that are my mother and John. You can call me Tom."

Wolf took on Tiger's position, crossing his arms and unconsciously sliding his feet further from each other to make his stance appear larger and more threatening**. "And how did you two meet?" he annunciated slowly, as if trying to work it out himself. "Bunny doesn't exactly have a lot of time for socializing…that I know of, anyway." Even Tiger, who hadn't known him for more than a week, could tell that the apprehension that showed when most people attempted physical contact with Bunny was not present now, despite Thomas's arm resting on his shoulders. He certainly wasn't lying about being close with the soldier.

"We met while I was doing a stint in Iraq and wound up in Afghanistan. My driver didn't speak English, and I butchered the translation, so I was driven to the wrong city with a couple of the guys working in the same division. So to make the story short, we met when John's SFSG division covered for us and gave us the correct translation." He wrapped both of his arms around Bunny's neck, despite Bunny attempting to push off his glomp with a "_What are you doing?_", and decidedly stated, "It was love at first sight. Or first mutual gun battle anyway. That was two years ago."

"Two and a half years ago," his victim muttered. "It was two and a half years ago because I wasn't stupid enough to realize that saving your butt would earn me an American puppy that refused to leave me alone." He had his head tucked down, whether to protect his sanity from Thomas or to hide the blush still evident on his face.

"Aww, I love it when you call me your puppy. Now I can call you my little bunny and we'll be even!"

"You dare call me that in a dark alley and all the local authorities and your precious CIA will find of you will be bits and pieces."

"Why can't you admit that you love me in public?"

"Because I don't."

"Is there a shooting range around here?"

"No."

"Good, because you promised me a shooting lesson."

"I did not, even though you could use one."

"You're so adorable, Bunny."

"I have a gun with your name on it."

"And there's a shooting range nearby! What are the chances?" He dragged the smaller soldier along by the hand, as if they were headed off on a date, and waved back to D-Unit and Wolf. "I'll bring him back in one piece, don't worry!"

And that was how D-Unit met MI6 agent, and Alex Rider's former partner and roommate, Ben Daniels. Of course, they didn't know that. Through painstaking efforts, neither did Wolf.

* * *

><p>AN: This chapter goes out to _speechbubble_ for her suggestions before I even had the first chapter posted and all the other wonderful reviewers who commented despite my lack of posting. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! COOKIES FOR EVERYONE!

The stuff that appears to have gotten skipped over has been saved for next chapter (like Alex's run-in with the tree, what Crow has to do with things, and what the hell Ben is suddenly appearing for), just in case you're wondering. No, I didn't just up and forget.

I'll try to update at least once a month from now on. Heh heh… We'll see how well that works.

*Don't worry. I'm not on an OC rush. He's an actual character from the AR series. *hint hint*

**Note that this is the same thing that those Secret Service do when they're standing still, and exactly how you see the guys standing in front of exclusive nightclubs. It's not learned. It's primal.


	6. Chapter 6

Part six of _Requiem for a Rising Star_.

* * *

><p>"What <em>are<em> you doing?"

"Holding the gun."

"…"

"No, really."

"I should have known. Didn't you learn anything when you were in the SAS? For that matter, how did you get into MI6 with that stance? How did I deal with you in the first place?"

"Daggers to the heart, Bunny."

He grimaced. It was true that he had promised Ben some time on the range, but until now, he hadn't felt well enough to make a stab at a lesson. "You can call me John and leave it at that."

"You know how much fun the guys back at HQ had putting together your profile?" Ben chortled, adjusting his grip to what he knew Alex was looking for.

"Ha ha. When I get back to the office, you'll have to point out the guy who decided my codename in X-Unit."

"I can't do that, but I can give you a name. Your profile wasn't wrong when it said Redbird named you. We shot him a message out in the field and he said your codename with his unit was Bunny."

"So what was it originally?"

"Flamingo. Whichwasnotmyidea," he quickly added as Alex's face darkened.

The range was deserted whenever it was this pleasant out—pleasant, of course, translated to 'not raining and warm enough not to have goosebumps' in the general lingo—except for Turtle, as usual, who was otherwise occupied with his lunch and tapping at the computer. Add that to him being deaf in his left ear, the one turned their way, and it was essentially like no one being in the room at all. Ben had likely figured this all out in advance and made for an opportunity.

"Jones was the one who included the PTSD, by the way. She thought it should be somewhat public knowledge in case you had problems. The rest of the guys have a pot going as to how long you'll last."

"Please don't tell me you're in on this."

"I said the rest of the guys. I bow to higher authorities when trying to figure out your movements. God knows you could've massacred K-Unit and the whole camp the very first night and I would have lost all my money." He shot twice, looked downrange, and winced. "So how's the info gathering coming? I hear you didn't get X-Unit like you wanted."

"Yeah, Gopher said they were disappointed, but they'll still working under the story we set up. Otherwise, it hasn't been too bad. Crow's file will have to be added to." As Ben set up his next shot, Alex tilted his head sideways and adjusted the barrel likewise to offset the spy's terrible aim. "You need to account for recoil."

"So I've been told. Crow's never been in anything besides SAS, though. What has to be added?"

"Well, I've just elevated his clearance level—" the next shot went wild, and not due to an exceptional lack of skill "—and his family had some low-level connections to SCORPIA."

"Wait, what?" He set the Sig down as he leaned an arm on the counter. "How did MI5, not to mention SIS, not pick this up? And when did you decide that you can choose how much clearance someone clearly outside of intelligence gets?"

"Starting with the last question, I needed to get information from him so an agreement had to be reached. I get answers, he gets answers. It makes the trust thing less of an issue. No state secrets, missile codes or names were exchanged, I swear. And, as you so brilliantly noticed, he has no intel connections. I doubt he's got someone to leak intelligence _to_."

"True, but the SCORPIA link? You don't think that will be a problem later on?"

"It was his grandfather. Who," he stabbed a finger at the air, "is long dead. I noticed that Crow shot the same way I do and learned later that Cat, his brother, did too. Odd coincidence, I thought. I asked Crow about it and he said the grandfather on his step-father's side had taught them when they were teenagers. The grandfather's name rang a bell as someone on SCORPIA's paycheck back when they were a young group, but the step-father and mother's names didn't so I assume the connection ends there."

"Does Crow know?"

"He does now. Someone else was bound to notice it at some point and make accusations. I figure he should understand why."

"Alright." The gun was aimed at the target once again, and the new hole just skimmed the innermost red circle. "I'll make a note of that and pass it on to Jones. She should be less than pleased."

Alex folded his arms, grimly noting the mark. "You learn fast."

He posed dramatically with the Sig Sauer, blowing imaginary smoke from the barrel. "I aim to misbehave."

The teenager swatted his hands down. "We're on an information exchange, not a date. Did you get anything else on Cat from the system?"

"Not a thing." The spy aimed again, pausing to let Alex fix his stance and hands. "It really looks like he was DOA, like the reports say. The paper trail goes dry at the makeshift ER. Unless he had an accomplice, they buried the right guy."

"But that's just the thing. It shouldn't have been a closed casket funeral. There was no request for cremation. Cat took three shots to the abdominal cavity, one in the leg and at least two more to the torso. That leaves exactly none to the face, which is the only reason I could think of for a soldier to have a closed casket funeral. Plus, Crow wasn't allowed to see his brother in the morgue at the medics' camp. It all adds up to a set-up, and a damn good one." He squinted at the target and assessed it with a satisfactory nod. "A body left the site, so it must have been a substitute. Maybe there's something there. See if someone didn't make it home, or was supposed to be cremated within a couple hours of Xion Dante's shooting."

"You said you had a package for transport?"

"And I do." Taking one of the Sigs from the rack, he emptied out the rounds. A tiny vial of blood fell out followed closely by a larger container with the broken heads of five toothpicks. "There isn't much blood to test, but I got plenty of DNA."

"And if the records have been changed to match the corpse?"

"Then check the DNA and blood with Crow's record. He'll donate blood and DNA for comparison if the labs need it."

Ben unzipped his hoodie and a second pocket sewn liberally into an inner seam to pull out a miniaturized diabetic's pouch. Alex handed the vials over for him to pack into the cold pack. "This should keep the samples fresh for at least a day." He zipped his jacket back up, leaning against the shooting booth with a smirk. "So, my ride doesn't come for another hour. What do we do until then?"

Alex froze. "No. Not a chance in hell."

Ben shook his head with a decidedly unsympathetic expression. "You have your orders and I have mine."

"But I already—"

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Rider."

* * *

><p>He had decided by the time that he and "Thomas" returned to D-Unit's cabin that Jones was just as mother-hennish as Snake and Tiger. Ordering check-ups on temporarily former spies was downright underhanded, particularly when one was supposed to be undercover. "Satisfied?" he almost growled at the spy, who smiled beatifically back.<p>

"Always."

"Smug bastard."

"I'm beginning to think you're a little shy…"

"Because I don't want an impromptu physical? The next time Jones wants to know how her _former_ employee is faring, tell her to—"

Ben rapidly silenced him by pulling them barely a hair's breadth from each other, their lips barely touching. "Company," he breathed as Alex looked up at him through his eyelashes. "D. K. Behind you."

The urge to flinch as an arm snaked around his waist became almost unbearable, but he tilted his head slightly to the side and gripped the front of Ben's jacket loosely with both hands. "Time?" he whispered back.

"Four."

He bit his lip, guessing how long it would take to achieve the appropriate condition. "Good?"

"Good. Blackmail?"

"Plenty." Alex bit his lip again. "Good?"

"Good." Their hands fell away to clasp together between them. Speaking in his regular tone, he declared, "I expect text messages at least once every eight hours from now on, or I'll have to resort to similar methods in the future."

"Like hell. You're on assignment overseas."

"It's not a really important assignment. I can just tell them I have more important things to do. Besides, they're not making me carry a burn phone, so you have no excuse."

"No excuse? I'm supposed to be training for active combat!"

"Well in my opinion, you're perfectly fit for service. Although," he took a step back to casually trail his eyes over Alex's form, "I might have to make a second assessment to be entirely certain."

Alex started to retort with choice words as his pale complexion rapidly gave away his embarassment only to be stopped when he heard a pained sound too close for comfort. "They're right behind me, aren't they?" At his nod, he cautiously asked, "How _long_ have they been there?"

"Since the beginning," the spy confirmed, though it was just for the benefit of their eavesdroppers.

Alex was emotionally torn between smirking at their unplanned deception, or ashamed that he would have this incident lingering over his head for the remainder of his SAS experience. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Thomas?"

"I don't know. Do I?"

"Don't make me kill you violently and all over the place."

"I love you too, John." He waved to the rest of them over Alex's shoulder. "You'll be seeing more of me," he half-heartedly warned the two units.

* * *

><p>Despite frequent prodding by Jaguar and Eagle, both of whom refused to give up on prying information regarding Thomas the CIA agent from their unfortunate victim, Alex returned to his former dormancy.<p>

It was surprising, then, that Jaguar was the one who made the connection that neither K-Unit nor Tiger had. He bolted up from his seat by the doorway with wide eyes as if he had just been hit with a taser set to 'daze'. "Whoa."

Tiger, Wolf and Eagle looked over at him with mildly worried expressions. "Something wrong?" Tiger asked, making sure his teammate wasn't giving away his royal flush. Falcon tapped his cards almost anxiously on the table, trying to continue the game; Tiger had no doubt that their own personal shark had something up his sleeves to counter his own wonderful hand.

The soldier's eye twitched unconsciously. "I think I've just realized something."

Eagle crossed the short distance in K-Unit's cabin to shake him by the shoulders. "Don't give in to reason, Jag! I can't lose you yet! It's too early!" Falcon gave a small snort of disdain, reluctantly laying his own cards face down on the table.

Jaguar pried himself loose. "We can forget this ever happened in a second. Just, think about it. Bunny and Crow disappear for…maybe ten, twelve hours and Bunny winds up unconscious and injured to some degree. Almost simultaneously, a CIA agent who says he's Bunny's boyfriend shows up to check on things and the two of them disappear for a good hour. Doesn't that seem awfully coincidental?"

Wolf shrugged dismissively. "I can't see how the Americans would be involved in anything over here, or why they'd use Bunny as cover." He tried to remember if Alex had ever mentioned working with the CIA or having a boyfriend, but nothing specific was coming to mind.

"No, I'm thinking that Bunny has something to do with them. He was with SFSG for some time, and they worked with plenty of other agencies. And what about Redbird? No one really knows where he gets his information. For all we know, he works with the CIA and other foreign intelligence on a regular basis."

With a nod, Tiger added, "X-Unit is expected within a couple days, if they're on time."

After a pause, there was a quiet, "So, how badly was Bunny hurt?" from Falcon.

Tiger was about to answer when he saw the calculating look in the sniper's eyes, one he noticed when they were in the midst of a poker game or as he looked over a target. "I don't know. He's been evasive, same as Crow. All I've seen were the bandages on his forehead, but there might have been others that he's hiding. His limp is also back. Why?"

"Well we all know that the story Crow gave about running into the tree was completely BS." He steepled his fingers, as if considering the cards and calculating the probabilities. "Crow was sitting stiffly too, like he had something on his back taped up. That all adds up to a third person, one that caught them both off-guard."

"And then they called in the CIA," Wolf finished, rolling his eyes. "I get that something doesn't add up, but this still seems like a bunch of guessing."

"You've seen Crow fight before," Falcon noted, speaking directly to Tiger. "You think someone could get a shot at his back in a fair fight?"

Tiger grimaced. "He's got a point there. That guy can kick butt if he wants to."

"And even if it were a spat between Crow and Bunny, how does Bunny get knocked unconscious, sustain injuries, and also manage a jab at Crow's back?"

The room fell silent as the group considered the inevitable.

"What I still don't get," Eagle smartly commented, "is how Bunny has a CIA boyfriend and yet Wolf hasn't had a second date in the last three years."

Tiger took a step back to escape the sudden bloodshed.

* * *

><p>He stood on a hill that overlooked most of the camp, jacket billowing behind him and solitary eye shining with mischief. Had a patch not covered the scarred right socket that was reminiscent of something harsher than war, his smirk would have been ominous. Fiery hair many inches longer than military code permitted rustled in a short, cold wind. Rather than the bland SAS uniform or fatigues, he was in dark slacks and a black sleeveless tee with red Arabic characters dripping across his broad chest. A camouflage jacket was slung casually over one shoulder as if he were expecting the temperature to suddenly plummet.<p>

With a last triumphant look, he called over his shoulder, "Gather the troops. We're arriving by noon tomorrow."

Because when Redbird returned, he had to make an entrance worthy of his legend.

* * *

><p>AN: *peeks out of trenches* So. I'm crammed into an SUV with seven other people. And paying ten dollars for twenty-four hours of wifi. I wanted to get something out to make sure you guys know I haven't abandoned this story, so that's why this chapter was so short. That, and my flashdrive keeps trying to escape. I'll try to get another one up shortly…(and by that I mean within less than six months.) OTL Sorry guys.


	7. Chapter 7

Part seven of _Requiem for a Rising Star_.

* * *

><p>Snake found Falcon's deductions interesting. "So should we put a tail on them?"<p>

Tiger and Wolf exchanged a look. "It's not a bad idea," Tiger admitted. "But we might have to recruit someone from another unit. None of us are as sneaky as them."

Jaguar grinned. "We're SAS, not spies. I don't think that's a quality they would look for in us. Maybe Sparrow would be willing to help out in exchange for immunity from kitchen duty. He's always been able to do the jungle exercises much better than anyone else."

They turned as they heard the quick thump of footsteps on dry mud to see Eagle sprinting towards them. "They just came in the east entrance a moment ago! I th-…I think they're looking for Bunny!" He came to a screeching stop that kicked up a good amount of dust and gravel.

Wolf crouched down to put his hands on Eagle's shoulders as the soldier panted, his own hands on his knees as his heart raced from the sudden spurt of exhaustion. "Slow down. Who's looking for Bunny?"

"Redbird! X-Unit got in and they were asking which unit Bunny was in."

Wolf glanced over at Tiger and Jaguar. "Where is he right now?"

* * *

><p>Crow examined the commotion below them with a single critical glance before refocusing his attention. "So explain this to me again. You can reinforce the stitches?"<p>

"Yeah, and it doesn't hurt that much either. It depends on how the muscle is used, and which way the stitching runs. The goal is to create tension at a ninety degree angle to both the direction the wound tends to go and the muscle beneath it, so it pretty much only works on straight cuts." Alex was keeping his hands busy with a stolen bottle of glue and a thin plastic strip. "See, you want to actually pull the bordering skin out to allow it to flex. Don't let the nurses see it, though. They're always trying to get them off."

"Makes sense," he muttered, watching as the former spy secured the adhesive to one of the cuts on his leg.

"Those nasal strip things work just as well, except they don't stay on if they get too wet." Alex settled back on the tree branch. "How's the back feel?"

"Not bad. So you think that was the guy who's been killing the Black Cats?"

"Yep."

Crow frowned, fiddling with one of the plastic strips. "Do you have any proof?"

"Nope. Everything's circumstantial, although he is trespassing on government land. That has to count for something." Alex put his hands behind his head and yawned. The shallow scratches running dangerously close to his left eye were beginning to scab and itch, and the deeper wounds on his forehead weren't much better off. "I've got an idea, though."

"Know anybody just under a hundred eighty-four centimeters, glasses, scrunched-up face, scraggly hair?"

"Fatigues?"

"No. Beige cargo pants, dark green polo and heavy duty work shoes. Looks civilian."

"Huh." He crawled further out on his branch to get a better look. "That's Gopher. He's one of Redbird's which is why he doesn't bother getting his vision corrected or wearing the proper dress."

"Didn't you tell Tiger and Jaguar that you transferred from X-Unit?"

"They're in on the plan. Most of it anyway. Most of the stories I gave them were somewhat true, just dated wrong. I worked with them a couple weeks for a stint in Eastern Europe."

"Through MI6."

"Yeah." Alex eyed his teammate. "Why?"

Crow stretched out his legs from his former crouch, adjusting to the rough bark and keeping his injured shoulder off the trunk. "How'd you get in?"

Unphased, he continued his silent threat assessment of the quiet man on the neighboring branch. With a satisfied blink, he shrugged. "Didn't. It's something of a hereditary job in my case. They decided I would be a good spy. I didn't have any choice in the matter. After a couple years, it becomes a lifestyle and you can't shake it off."

"A couple years. So you were underage when they put you in the field."

"Still am." Crow raised an eyebrow in mild disbelief and Alex smirked. "I'm on temporary leave for the time."

"If you say so. I guess I'm too old for the job, then."

"Nah, I'm just unusually young. Most of the guys I know either got recruited out of university or the military, so you still have a chance. Considering?"

His only response was a noncommittal grunt. They considered Gopher's retreating back. "What's Redbird doing back early?"

"He probably got bored. More likely, he wanted to arrive late enough that there were plenty of units to witness his arrival, but early enough to surprise them. That would be Redbird. We should say hi," Alex decided out of the blue. Crow looked over quickly enough to witness the young soldier was sliding down the trunk and jumping to the ground with only the slightest disturbance.

Crow, considerably taller and with a couple more years' experience in tree exploration, simply stepped from the branch and bent his knees as he landed, rolling from the balls of his feet to his toes to further reduce the power of impact.

Alex immediately headed in the direction of the mess hall. At this time of day, that would be the first place Redbird would think to hit. And if he were sending out his men as scouts it meant that he was… He froze for a moment, trying to work through the man's plan. What was he doing?

Redbird got there first.

A sharp pain flashed across his chest, nearly on top of his previous wound but aimed better than the sniper, three times. A fourth tapped his temple. He fell heavily on his side. "Bastard," he coughed to a tall figure emerging from the shadows of the kitchen that neighbored the mess hall.

A military-issue combat boot knocked him on to his back. "No blood. You'll be fine, but you're out of practice." He tsked, shaking his head. "I thought I taught you better, but things like this must be expected." A half smile never left his face.

Crow was half a second behind Alex, but he only stared on as the two exchanged words. Redbird looked over at him as he switched his gaze to the X-Unit commander's left hand. He lifted it, as if examining the gun held negligently on the tip of his index finger for something wrong. "It's only an air gun. Couldn't kill a raccoon. Well, maybe a raccoon. Hardly a Bunny, though." The man extended a hand out to Alex, who winced as he accepted it. It took him a second to realize his feet weren't touching the ground before he found himself hitting it again with a painful crash.

Redbird pulled a black handkerchief from the pocket of his slacks, wiping his hands disdainfully on the cloth. "I don't know why I deal with you people in the first place. I was perfectly happy in Afghanistan but_ nooo_. They have the nerve to think that someone such as I could get rusty."

Their impromptu reunion had drawn a small crowd, among which were K-Unit and D-Unit. Tiger stomped up to his fellow captain. "What do you think you are doing with my soldier, Redbird?" he growled angrily, easily using his height to his advantage. Redbird was barely a hundred eighty-five centimeters (which many attributed to the extra height his boots clearly gave him)*, while Tiger soared at least ten centimeters above him.

If this irritated the fiery-haired captain, it didn't show. "This is supposed to be a refresher course, isn't it? War isn't a shooting booth. You have to understand tactics. You have to be smarter and faster than the enemy. We're soldiers, not children, so don't treat your teammates as such." He looked down at Alex and let his smile grow as three iron spheres rolled from the younger's clenched hand. His eyes returned to Tiger with a triumphant smirk. "Talent shouldn't go to waste." With a quick dramatic spin on his back foot, Redbird stepped away from the crescent created by onlookers.

Alex rolled up on to his feet, letting the throbbing in his head fade into the background noise of shuffling feet and quiet voices. Jaguar was at his side in a heartbeat, poking his side and head. "I heard shots, and even BBs can result in serious injuries. What the heck does Redbird think he's pulling?"

Tiger was furious. "He's being a bloody jackass, that's what he's doing. Born with an inflated ego and thinks he's the one who should be running the Special Air Service. I can't believe the higher-ups haven't gotten rid of him by now."

"I'm fine," insisted Alex, swatting at Jaguar's hands. "He used to do this all the time as 'instinct training'."

The medic pulled his hand back, inspecting his own knuckles. "Did you put a metal plate in there, Bunny, or are you thicker than I thought?"

He uncovered part of the gauze bandage swathed across his forehead to reveal his dog tags, one suffering a small crater. "He's left-handed and likes to hit where it hurts. I wasn't so lucky with the other three," an assortment of small cuts and dark bruises pockmarked his right hand, "so I had to catch them."

D-Unit exchanged bewildered looks. Finally, Jaguar grabbed his uninjured arm and dragged their smallest teammate behind him. "That's going to need bandaging or it could get infected."

"No, no. You don't need to do tha-"

A dark aura seemed to fall over the medic, and though he didn't turn around, the grip on his wrist suddenly tightened. "You're making my job harder, kid. I'll knock you out if it makes things easier. _Don't tempt me_."

Alex shuddered, sending a last pleading glance back to Tiger and Crow. The captain and sniper appeared just as shocked over Jaguar's sudden personality change. Neither of them made any moves towards helping him, unless their careful steps backwards were part of some strange tactic.

* * *

><p>"I've never seen him act that way."<p>

It took Tiger a moment to place the voice of his teammate, one he had so rarely heard since Cat's death. After looking around to make sure it wasn't someone else, he admitted that it wasn't a common occurrence. "He's normally one of the most docile soldiers here, but when something gets on his nerves, it does something to his head…" Mildly concerned, he shot another glance at their cabin. Neither Bunny nor Jaguar had emerged since the medic had dragged his thrashing teammate in. "Most of the other units wonder why he's our medic when he doesn't know much about emergency medicine. He actually learned most of what he knows from a three week hands-on course offered by a small university the summer before he joined. But Jaguar can do something that most medics can't."

"Annoy everyone he meets without exception."

"Among other things, he can judge the effects of cumulative injury with incredible accuracy."

Crow self-consciously adjusted his position, changing his stance so as to not lean against the tree with his shoulder. It gave an angry twinge in protest. "So he knows what everyone's limits are. That's convenient."

"It also makes him a scary medic at times. Do you remember when Dolphin twisted his ankle in the field?"

He thought back two months. The previous 'Black Cat' had escaped a terrible accident on his motorbike while on patrol in Afghanistan without a single scratch only to stumble over his own feet and fall into concertina wire five minutes later in an almost humorous twist of events. "Yeah, while we were stationed at the Shindand Airbase**. Why?"

"Do you remember seeing him at all the rest of our two weeks there?"

It took a moment for him to reply. "I don't think so."

"That's because Jaguar was convinced that something else was wrong with him. Turned out, he'd practically destroyed his knee during the crash. Of course, he was so concerned about getting his motorcycle fixed that he didn't notice, and when his knee gave out, he thought he'd tripped." He shook his head. "Sometimes I wondered where Jaguar found those handcuffs, but I always realize that I'd rather not know."

Before either of them realized what was happening, Tiger's face was becoming close friends with the earth as Eagle loudly proclaimed that Redbird was shooting something. That something was drowned out as Tiger brushed himself off and yelled, "What the hell makes you think that you can tackle me and shout in my ears?"

"Because this is _important_! I think Redbird's trying to give the Serge an aneurism."

"Why?"

"Well, he's shooting at the batch of candidates doing their run. I'm only eighty percent sure that he's not using real bullets, but only because as far as I can tell, no one's died yet."

Tiger sat heavily down on his the deck of their cabin and put his head in his hands. "Target practice. The man is using people for target practice. How is he still in SAS?"

"Links to other agencies." Crow stirred again, catching Tiger's attention. The man never moved around this often, much less talked. "Bunny says they did work for MI6 while he was with them. SAS would have trouble getting rid of X-Unit if they keep them on good terms with other British agencies."

Eagle nodded. "That's true. They'd also lose all his contacts in the Middle East. So I originally came over here to tell you that Snake wanted to see Bunny." He frowned as Tiger and Crow both looked at the closed door of their cabin. "What?"

"I hope it isn't urgent," Crow noted.

* * *

><p>AN: Why haven't I posted in… …*checks profile page*… …a month, despite having half of this chapter written in advance? Well, there are a lot of reasons. In particular, it's probably the 3-6 surprisingly tiring hours I spend volunteering at my local library four days a week changing their entire cataloguing system over to the Dewey Decimal system.

However, you can thank _IndilwenAranionell_ for my my update, because I fear she might track me down and horrifically murder me if I did not do so immediately. This was going to be longer, but… *looks around nervously* And thanks to _NightmareWorld_ I have the rest of this story planned out!

*I totally did not steal this from Fullmetal Alchemist… On another note, there are actually shoes out there that can make me appear, umm, decently sized. :3

**Shindand is a joint airbase shared between U.S. and NATO forces, and CIA uses it as their surveillance base in both Afghanistan and Iran. It's still active (being only 75 miles from the Iran border) but it's not your typical AF hotel. They take their work seriously, are not allowed to drink alcohol (and have to submit to routine urinalysis), and have to live on base for safety reasons. If they even leave the living quarters, they are required to be armed. Ironically enough, it was built in 1961 by the Soviets, reverted to Afghan control when the Soviet Union fell, bombed repeatedly in 2002 in the search for al Qaeda, rebuilt by those same forces, and now is returning to Afghan hands in order to build up their air force.


	8. Chapter 8

Part eight of _Requiem for a Rising Star_. Sorry for the wait. Again. -_-'

* * *

><p>Tiger frowned at the piece of paper in his hand. Something had happened to mess up the schedules, so half of the units were going to have to delay their refresher classes for another week. At this rate, his unit wasn't going to be out in the field for another three months. Twiddling his thumbs and dealing with bored teammates were two activities he could do without.<p>

As he folded up the paper, making a note to pass on the information to Crow and Bunny, the only two who hadn't seen it yet, he noticed Snake. Confused by the Scottish medic's appearance, he called out, "Isn't K-Unit on the course today?"

Snake stopped in front of the cabin with a tired nod. It was only at this distance that Tiger could see the mud clotting his boots and knees and decorating the side of his face in small droplets. "We're starting early and light. The rest are heading over to the mess hall for breakfast. Language testing starts later this afternoon." He assessed Tiger quietly. "I assume you're in the lucky half?"

"I wouldn't call sitting on our asses for another week 'lucky'," he growled. "If I'd known it would take this long, I'd have stayed at home a little longer. My three-year-old daughters are easier to deal with than Jag and Crow, not even including Bunny." He rolled his shoulders, standing up as he did. "So what are you doing here? You look like you could use the showers." It didn't take a genius to know that the medic must have been as tired as he looked.

"I figured walking around might work out some of the cramps and I that might as well check on Bunny while I'm at it," he admitted. "It's been a couple days."

Tiger grunted. "I'd try another day. Ever since Redbird got here, he's been…on edge. Even Crow's been uneasy, and frankly, that unnerves me. Which is why I'm sitting out here instead of in there," he added, pointing to the closed door at his back. "Sometimes I wonder who's really running this unit."

K-Unit's medic stared at the door, evidently weighing his options. "Where's Jaguar? He was acting a little off the last time I saw him."

He shrugged. "I think he's catching a mild case of cabin fever. Sometimes he volunteers to help out with the med tent during Selection just to do something. Why?"

Snake returned his gesture. "Curiosity, I guess."

Who knew that he would leave his family to find his mother bunkered with him in BB. "I can guess where this is going to go. Crow's holed up in the woods behind the shooting range, and he's been there for the majority of the last week, even before X-Unit arrived. Nothing unusual for him. I, on the other hand, have been coming up with a list of cruel and unusual punishments to unleash upon the bureaucrats who think they can stall our release back overseas, in case you wanted to know."

He chuckled as Snake apologized for being so predictable. "It's an annoying habit that I picked up in medical school." His gaze trailed inevitably back to D-Unit's cabin door. The medic sighed. "I'm already here, so I might as well risk it with Bunny."

Tiger nodded, knowing well in advance that he'd do just that. He was considering wishing him luck when a quiet laugh forced his attention to a new matter.

That 'matter' could have been a supermodel, from his wide, deep blue eyes, dimpled baby cheeks, and all-too-natural tan to the effortless way his messy sandy hair framed his face in soft curls. It was all the more shocking on first sight to realize that he could still pull it off with mud encrusted military fatigues. He was neither tall nor short, and while he appeared to be well-built, it was the build of a swimmer rather than a fighter. Tiger had a sense of déjà vu as he greeted them with a wide smile and the peace gesture. "I'd no idea Bunny was so popular this time of day, unless you're D-Unit?"

"I'm the unit leader, Tiger, and this is Snake from K-Unit. What do you want to talk to Bunny about? I haven't seen you before," he bluntly stated, in no mood for this kind of thing before a good gallon of something bitter and caffeinated.

The way the soldier beamed at him felt like something out of one of his daughter's fairy tales. "'Course not, mate! I'm Scorpion, X-Unit's new fourth. Good to meet you!" Tiger stared strangely at his outstretched hand before tentatively shaking it with no small amount of lingering confusion. "Oh, you wanted to know what I was visiting for." He laughed lightly again, completely oblivious to how unlike his namesake he was. Even Snake had to raise an eyebrow in wonder. "Somehow, Bunny and I got our assignments switched, so I wanted to compare notes to see if he had any idea what happened."

"Wait," Tiger wasn't used to interfering in other's affairs, but he figured he had an excuse given that it was one of his own unit. "You were supposed to be with us?"

"Yeah." Scorpion the fair sheepishly pulled at his earlobe before casually tossing his hair back out of his eyes. "I'm a transfer from SASR*," which explained the faint Aussie accent, Tiger noted, "and my original posting was with your unit. The day I flew in, my driver told me that something had happened and that I was stationed with one of the forward units instead. It really doesn't make any sense, but I figured Bunny might know the reason behind it."

Snake frowned. "We're getting new recruits in a couple months, though."

"I dunno," the young soldier shrugged. "My brother's got a place in Southampton and I figured it would be an interesting opportunity, so when they said they needed a couple volunteers, I raised my hand." He glanced over their shoulders at the hut. "So…is Bunny in?"

"How did you get the name Scorpion?"

Both Tiger and Scorpion looked curiously at Snake, whose tone of voice suggested that it wasn't simply a friendly question to pass the time. Tiger wondered what could be so interesting about some sergeant's naming sense during Selection.

Scorpion put his hands in his pockets and considered the Scottish medic. "There was this trick I learned when I was little involving an old Fairbairn-Sykes knife** and a lonely old man who wanted to have company at his house every once in awhile. It was a hobby that became valuable when I joined special forces. Apparently the sergeant was particularly impressed. But I understand your confusion." He took a moment to spread his stance and dramatically toss his hair, letting it catch the scarcely seen sunlight. "I clearly should have been named for a more graceful creature."

Tiger caught Snake's eye and the subsequent shake of his head. Whatever had been bothering him earlier was gone. "Bunny's in, if you want to see him, but he's been acting a little…" He sighed. Scorpion had blown right past him after hearing the first handful of words, jumping up on the porch and practically diving through the door. "Damn brats," he complained more to himself than to the medic. "Think they run the place, and as far as I'm concerned, they might as well."

"Hey, who let the maniac in?" Bunny complained, opening the cabin door and slipping to the side of the frame to avoid a glomp by the exuberant Scorpion.

"But Bunny! This is fate, our roles being switched!"

"Then what are you here complaining to me for?" He furiously shook at his leg to dislodge his new, unwarranted appendage. "Shoo!"

"You're so cold, especially since I know how you got put in the Black Cat seat."

Bunny stopped, regretting it immediately as the grip on his shin turned into a subtle tug, sending him crashing to the floor. "Ow." He shoved Scorpion off with his free leg. "Fine, you've got me. I'll listen if you get off my bloody leg." He looked up to see Snake and Tiger sneaking closer into hearing range. "I can see you, you know."

"You're mistaking me for someone that cares," Tiger retorted. Snake at least had the decency to look shameful.

"Whatever." Bunny's patience was quickly becoming transparent as his eyebrows furrowed and he crossed his arms, as if to keep from making events transgress faster. "Why am I here instead of suffering under Redbird?"

Scorpion swiveled to face the two older soldiers. "I'm surprised neither of you realized it sooner."

The frustration had reached infectious levels. "Realized what?" asked a clueless Tiger, who couldn't think of any obvious reasons he had overlooked. Snake shook his head, no more enlightened.

While his hair tossing was beginning to get irksome, his chuckle this time was amused as ever. "He looks nearly identical. You could be brothers or even twins."

Tiger frowned, thinking he was going to require more information to make any sense of what had just fallen into his lap, before he looked sideways at his younger teammate. Something clicked. It took a moment for him to realize who he was remembering, but once it came to him, it was as if an image from the past had returned to haunt him. "Wha…?"

"Like a mirror image, right?" It would have been hard to find anyone more smug than Scorpion was at that moment. "But I wanted to figure out how far the similarities went." His attention returned to Bunny, who looked as though he were trying unsuccessfully to determine what epiphany his unit leader had just had via telepathy. "The serge let me pull his file when I mentioned my concerns, especially since the decision appears to have been made from over his head. You know he was an orphan right?"

Bunny's eyes narrowed. "I'm an orphan. So are dozens of men here, I imagine."

He made a contented humming sound, as if he were checking something off an internal list. "There was one other interesting thing that I noticed in his physical. It may just be a guess, but I believe Cat was a little younger than he said in his file."

Snake, who hadn't made the connection until he heard the name, whipped his head up fast enough to both worry about a possible concussion and catch the curious light burning in the way Scorpion was looking down at Bunny.

"What are you implying?"

"Well that's one of the other reasons I wanted to stop by. See, I figure that because of the way he quickly gained nearly 16 centimeters during the time he was here and this one incident when he dislocated his shoulder during Selection*** that he was probably around 19 when he officially joined. It seemed a little strange that someone would go to such effort to get into the SAS."

Snake let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. As he let his panic drain out, Bunny stood up with a strange look on his face. "I need to go talk to Crow." The gathered soldiers felt a moment of confusion even as he added, "He might remember Cat better." At the speed of his quick steps and the urgency with which he then had to stop and ask directions to the shooting range, no one was fooled by his words.

* * *

><p>"Crow."<p>

The man peered down from his perch in the tree, instantly recognizing the figure. "Already?"

"We're starting, but we have to move fast."

* * *

><p>Scorpion watched Bunny's retreating back. "What was that about?"<p>

Tiger returned to contentedly glaring at the piece of paper that had doomed him to another week of an unusually sedentary lifestyle with his unit. "I quit asking that three strange incidents ago. It starts to feel repetitive." He silently cursed the day that bureaucracy had been given such authority over a clearly internal matter. There would be blood when he got promoted. It would flow through Breacon Beacons like water through—

"Tiger?"

He quickly returned to the matter at hand. "Don't bother worrying. We know where he's going anyway. Crow frequents all the same places nowadays."

Scorpion crossed his arms. "Crow's in D-Unit?"

"Yep. He was part of the original unit before the Black Cat seat was created."

His expression resolved into a pensive, distant stare. "So you, Cat, Crow and…?"

"Jaguar, our medic." When his answer wasn't followed by another inquiry, he looked up from the sheet. "Run out of questions?"

The Aussie settled down on the dirt ground, managing to find a relatively dry patch, and put his hands behind his head to admire the blue, cloudless sky. "It's just that you don't seem to have much of a clue what your own unit is up to, or where they are. It seems…careless, I guess."

Tiger folded up the slip of paper and stuffed it into a pocket to worry about later. "I don't know how you are used to things being run in Swanbourne or what kind of circus that Redbird thinks he's running, but I keep to one standard: I trust my teammates. If you can't trust each other, every exercise is going to be half-hearted and assignments wind up sloppy. I'm going to trust all three of them to do the right thing, because all that leaves for me is to decide the action plan and know that they will follow it to the dot. That's teamwork."

Still a couple hours away, the three of them could see the grey storm clouds gathering on the distant horizon.

"Hmm." Scorpion hummed to himself, as if to indicate that they would have to agree to disagree. "I guess it wouldn't matter what else I say then. It should be—"

"Did you hear that?" Tiger interrupted him, holding up a hand for silence as he tried to locate the source of the brief noise. Moments later, it repeated itself.

"That was a shout, and it didn't sound like it was in the direction of the course," worried Snake.

"You're right," he muttered, eyebrows furrowing to multiply the lines creasing his forehead. "That sounded more like…" The yell was shorter this time, and sharper.

"The woods," the medic finished with him.

* * *

><p>"I…"<p>

To say there was blood everywhere would have been an understatement. It had fallen in every way possible: droplets splattered a wide array of the ground as he had fought back; puddles stained the grass red, tracking markedly slower, pained movements as he finally began to stagger; smears on the ground and low-lying branches were scarlet fingerprints, smudging and coalescing as gravity began to take its toll in blood; spray alit up the side of the tree, probably from a nicked vein or artery; and where his body lay, the foliage would never recover as rust crept in.

"I…"

He stumbled.

The knife itself was imbedded in the ground, blood on both hilt and blade. It almost pointed accusingly to the shaking soldier, four ragged nail marks clawed across his cheek.

Alex slumped to the ground, either not noticing or not caring about the warm liquid dripping from his hands as he held his forehead. Something throbbed in his head as the rush of adrenaline began to give, allowing reality to set back in. He blinked and Three was behind his eyelids again, not as he died, but as the doctor with his Ph.D. in torture lived and grinned. Another blink and the doctor was gone.

The blood was not.

"I… I don't… Crow? What happened?"

* * *

><p>AN: Okay people, when I said that I feared for my life if I did not release the previous chapter, **_that was not meant to inspire further death threats_**. I could swear that you guys don't care about my actual job. *rolls eyes* College starts next week (move-in is a couple hours away, but wth) so I'm going to attempt a mass writing session and conclude this story before then. Wish me luck.

And thanks, _oneshotgauntness_, for driving me absolutely crazy. I don't know what kind of drugs you are on, but please share. Your enthusiasm is unmatched (and a little scary). :3

Also (this is what I get for not updating in so long…) I have to say something about the lovely group of guests and members that have been going around, reviewing every single chapter I have ever posted. I'm not the only one who has had this happen, but it doesn't make me any less grateful. You guys deserve some cookies!

*Basically Australian SAS. Interestingly enough, fewer people make it into the Australian division. This may or may not be related to the fact that since their formation in 1964, they have actually lost more men in training than in combat. No, this is not related at all to what happened during Snakehead; I just don't have any Aussie characters and felt the need to create one. ^^

**Okay, not as good with knives, but this was a close-quarters fighting knife issued during WWII with a blade about 18 centimeters (7 inches) long. The purpose of the length was to counter the thickest clothing worn during the war. For those of you who can't immediately recall who was in WWII that this would be addressed specifically at, think Soviet greatcoats.

***Some of you sports people might know what I'm talking about. The younger you are, the easier it is to fix a dislocated joint on the spot. Up until you're about 20, you can pretty much click the joint back into its socket (even if you have no idea what you're doing). After that, it can require some extra help, a quick stop at the ER, or even surgery. Unless of course you happen to be double-jointed like me. :D


	9. Chapter 9

Part nine of _Requiem for a Rising Star_.

* * *

><p>"<em>I…"<em>

_To say there was blood everywhere would have been an understatement. It had fallen in every way possible: droplets splattered a wide array of the ground as he had fought back; puddles stained the grass red, tracking markedly slower, pained movements as he finally began to stagger; smears on the ground and low-lying branches were scarlet fingerprints, smudging and coalescing as gravity began to take its toll in blood; spray alit up the side of the tree, probably from a nicked vein or artery; and where his body lay, the foliage would never recover as rust crept in._

"_I…"_

_He stumbled._

_The knife itself was imbedded in the ground, blood on both hilt and blade. It almost pointed accusingly to the shaking soldier, four ragged nail marks clawed across his cheek._

_Alex slumped to the ground, either not noticing or not caring about the warm liquid dripping from his hands as he held his forehead. Something throbbed in his head as the rush of adrenaline began to give, allowing reality to set back in. He blinked and Three was behind his eyelids again, not as he died, but as the doctor with his Ph.D. in torture lived and grinned. Another blink and the doctor was gone._

_The blood was not._

"I… I don't… Crow? What happened?" He asked the air in front of him, as if the man was standing before him with the answers to what he had forgotten.

Tiger stared on in horror, barely a meter away, at what appeared to be the aftermath of a one-sided fight. An absolutely vicious, drawn out battle to the death. He looked momentarily around for their assaulter, but another glance at the scene proved it unnecessary.

The blood decorating the young soldier's front and boots were from no noticeable wound. Only one hand was dripping red, and Tiger knew from seeing him in the shooting range twice that it was his dominant, right one. Furthermore, the only visible mark on Bunny, the deep scratches across his cheekbone, matched the blood encrusted nails on Crow's left hand.

A voice inside him screamed, _This isn't right!_, but he wasn't sure what part of this it was speaking of. Nothing in front of him felt real. So much blood could hardly have come from one person, but he knew from experience that it could.

"I…I'm going to get the sergeant." Scorpion declared weakly, blanching as he turned quickly away. "I'll be right back!" He didn't waste any time running towards the sergeant's office on the opposite side of the SAS grounds, both hands clasped tightly over his mouth.

Just behind him, Snake's hands clenched. Alex had PTSD that to some would be classified as 'severe' but he also knew that the former spy had an immense amount of self-control to restrain it. This was nothing less than an unexpected nightmare. It took a moment, but his instincts rebooted as he dissolved into paramedic routine. Two fingers to the ulnar artery, thumb holding the wrist in place. Hold ten seconds. Nothing. Shift position. Three fingers to the carotid artery, thumb positioned loosely held over the trachea. Hold ten seconds. Nothing. Back of hand a centimeter over the mouth, making sure not to make contact.

Tiger strode carefully in the opposite direction of the scene to stand over a dazed Bunny. The small soldier had lifted his head from his hands to examine the stains that littered them. He didn't appear to comprehend the meaning of what he was seeing, just absently staring into space. "Bunny." No reaction. "Bunny!" Not even a twitch. He knelt down to give his shoulder's a shake. "John!"

He blinked a few times, as if trying to get the sleep out of his eyes, and looked up at his unit leader. "Did I fall asleep?" The confusion that Tiger had originally assumed to be a result of lack of sleep was beginning to look like something else altogether. "I had to do something, and I came up here to tell someone…something." His brows knit together as his eyes darted back and forth across the ground, looking for an answer to appear before flicking up to meet the older man's. "Why can't I remember? It was something important, and I… Where's Crow? Crow can remind me. Ahh," he trailed off, bringing his hands up to eye level as he took in the drying crimson in the creases of his palms and fingers. "I had another episode, didn't I? Three won in the end after all."

"_John_." At the very least, he still responded to his own name. "I need you to tell me what happened."

"He wasn't supposed to be here," Bunny insisted. "He said it wouldn't work, and now I feel really dizzy. But it would have worked! Yes, but now I can't remember… Crow was there, though. Have him tell you what happened, because I kind of feel like I just need to lay down for a minute." He leaned back against the stiff bark, eyelids batting as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

D-Unit's leader set his forehead on top of his oblivious teammate's. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Bunny had been getting better. Crow had been reconnecting with them. Jaguar had been loosening up again. He hadn't needed to worry about his unit for once. In the space of two hours, it had gone to hell in a way he had never anticipated.

"Tiger," Snake demanded, pulling his attention back to Crow's condition, "he's still breathing, but his pulse is too faint. We need to get him first aid quickly or he could bleed out."

"I need you to not move, John," commanded Tiger, his voice as forceful as possible to get the meaning across if his words didn't. "I'll be back in two minutes, tops." Bunny sort-of met his eyes, but he couldn't' tell if that was a positive sign or not. To Snake, he responded, "I'll grab whoever's on post and see about a stretcher."

"Don't bother." Jaguar appeared from the south end of the woods, the same place they had come from, with his arms tightly crossed over his chest. "I was nearby and beat you guys here by a good ten minutes when I heard the first yells. By the time I arrived, he didn't have a pulse."

"There's a pulse," K-Unit's medic insisted, bending down to repeat his motions for the sake of his audience. "It's getting thready, but if we hurry—"

Jaguar was unapologetic in his rebuke. "There is no pulse. I looked for it in every major vein. Twice." The smears on his fingertips and palms otherwise might have been mistaken for a bad nosebleed, but in this situation, they stood as solid proof for his case. "I even did CPR, just in case there was still a chance. All I did was bruise a couple ribs in the process."

"But he was breathing—"

"_Snake_!" The soldier visibly flinched from his peer. "You're a medic, for goodness sake, and a hundred times better than me, but these are excuses, not diagnoses." As he looked with a grimace down at Crow, his hand went limp. Jaguar was right. He was being overly optimistic, letting emotion get ahead of his actual observances. There was no fluttering pulse beneath his middle finger, no puff of warm air against his knuckles, and no other verifiable sign of life in Crow.

Tiger, seeing the end of their debate, closed his eyes. Rubbing at the many lines creasing his forehead, he tried to compose himself and think of the next move. He had to make sure the sergeant knew what was going on. Scorpion ran off to fetch him just a moment ago, so that base was covered. The area would have to be quarantined and cleaned. It was part of the extensive Selection course that ran alongside the river, so it would be crucial that the testing candidates not believe some murderer was lurking amongst them. That would take some time, but the sergeant would be in charge of changing the course temporarily. And he needed to get Bunny under sedation until the exact cause of…this…could be determined. It could have been a psychotic break or external cause, not necessarily PTSD even though—he looked back down at the soldier—it certainly looked to be the case.

"Snake," the medic stood, "I need you to get Bunny to the first-aid tent and sedated for at least the next twenty-four hours."

Wolf and Tiger were very different people off the battlefield, one with only a father and the other with a huge family, but when the time came to get things done, they had the same mindset. That quick switch between 'vacation mode' and 'battle mode' was what had earned them their positions. In many cases, units have difficulty taking orders from another commander. Snake had no such difficulty. The two of them were practically the same, or would have been at this moment.

"Should I get someone to…" Rather than finish his sentence, he gestured to Crow's prone body. Did he need to have someone sent out with a stretcher and sheet to remove the corpse before Mother Nature began accelerating decomposition?

Tiger shook his head. "Serge is going to want an investigation to make this official." The words tasted bitter even as they left his mouth. His heart throbbed as he knew this would go down as yet another note in D-Unit's files. One more accidental death that probably could have been avoided with the right forethought. The majority of soldiers believed wholeheartedly that the so-called 'Black Cat' seat had been created with Cat's curse firmly embedded in the position, but it didn't mean that the higher-ups would see things in the same light. He was the unit commander. In that way, all blame had to fall on him. It was his job to hold his assigned teammates together, utilize them to get the best results and get them all home.

The higher-ups might not believe in curses and bad luck, but they did understand how to fix bad leadership. If he didn't do his job, he would be replaced.

Bunny would be removed for psychological treatment and/or stand before the law.

Crow was dead.

With only Jaguar, D-Unit would officially be disbanded. The medic would be reassigned to a unit who couldn't afford to wait until the final results of Selection.

Always the optimist, he thought, recalling what his wife sarcastically informed him at least four times a week. Who could be in his position? There was nothing he could hope for. The circumstances were clear, the weapon was right in front of them, and their witness…

"Jaguar, you said that you beat us here. Did you catch anything that happened?"

His teeth were clenched as he nodded. "Yeah, towards the end."

"Did you see anyone besides Bunny and Crow?"

A heavy sigh, then, "No, and there wasn't really a need to. He was sitting over him with one of the kitchen knives and…it was definitely him."

Tiger rubbed the bridge of his nose. Even an eyewitness. This was turning out to be a very damning case, not that he had ever doubted it from the start.

Except… With a hesitant sideways glance at Crow, he had a repeat of that nagging feeling, that something hadn't felt right from the very start. It took a handful of seconds of staring at the torn-up body for it to click. So obvious. Why hadn't any of them noticed it sooner? He spun back around to face Jaguar, who suddenly looked very uncertain at his sudden probing inquiry. "What did you do before the military?"

"Huh? This is the only real job I've held. I mean, I attended uni before I enlisted, but…"

"Exactly. What was your majoring field in uni?"

"Ummm…" What had started as uncertainty had rapidly degenerated into 'fight or flight' syndrome. The latter was looking more and more likely as he lost his ability to meet Tiger's eyes. "I was, er, well I started in foreign economics, but I went over to—"

Neither of them had a chance to finish their conversation as a blur of white streaked between them, bright enough to leave them momentarily color blind. Less than a second later, a shot rang out. A loud cry followed.

In the brief silence that followed, dark laughter emanated from the deep shadows of a tree barely two meters from them. "Well, that didn't work. Let's try again."

"Cat?"

* * *

><p>AN: Ah! The chapters are getting shorter! Okay, well it was going to be longer, but I didn't want to wind up with a chapter twice as long as every other one, so I'm trying to break it up as best as possible…sort of…OTL

I have a meeting for a conference tomorrow at ten, and it's already five hours into tomorrow. How did this happen?

Anyway, I have tomorrow and Sunday completely free (if you ignore all the homework and readings I have to do for a two and a half hour seminar on Monday, but forget about that) so my goal is to FINALLY FINISH THIS. Believe me, wonderful readers, I want this finished just as much as you do so I can get back to less important things (like sleep, eating, sleep, doing homework, sleep). TT_TT Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeep~

So if there's any confusion in this chapter, please wait until the next one! The next chapter is basically the one where I do my best to explain everything that's been going on behind the scenes this whole time. It will also be longer!

Thanks for being so patient with me, but I'm finally winding this story down.


	10. Chapter 10

Part ten of_ Requiem for a Rising Star_. Sorry if the last chapter was confusing (as many of you mentioned), but that was my goal. ^^ If something is left unexplained after this one, feel free to tell me and I'll make fixes.

* * *

><p>Snake had gotten one of Bunny's arms around his shoulder and his own arm around his thin waist as support, allowing him to half lift half drag him up off the ground. The concussion-like symptoms were something else that he had missed: dizzy, lethargic, confusion, an inability to process new information, memory loss just before the incident. Maybe in the struggle, he had hit his head.<p>

He had only given it a couple seconds of thought before Bunny was falling from his grasp, wrenched by a heavy force with a loud cry. The sudden loss of extra weight made him stumble and join him on the ground with a wince as he scraped his fingers on a rock embedded in the ground.

"Well, that didn't work," a hauntingly sweet voice chuckled. The click of a gun reloading was loud in the silent woods. "Let's try again."

Snake decided that he was going to be armed every time he left his house from now on, particularly if the risk for running into a certain teenager was in the forecast.

There was a short pop, less like a gun and more like a cork shooting out of a wine bottle. The medic sat up to find that this was indeed the case. Redbird, champagne glass and bottle (now cork-less) in one hand and the wine corkscrew in another, was standing a meter in front of Cat, who was staggering back holding his left eye. His gun, borrowed from the shooting range, was on the ground. "What the hell, old man? You could have taken my eye clean out!"

The impressively short redhead leader of X-Unit poured a small amount of soft yellow alcohol into his glass. "That was my goal. I figured we'd be more evenly matched if we had the same number of eyes."

Returning his attention to Bunny, he realized what had actually made them fall. Crouched protectively over Bunny was a man dressed casually in jeans and a bright blue brand name hoodie with long, nearly white hair falling past his shoulders. "Are you uninjured?" he directed at the smaller figure below him.

Bunny had attained more green hue in his face than Snake had believed physically possible. "You nailed me in the stomach, Frog. I think I'm going to be sick."

"Had you been paying attention, this would not have happened."

"I don't even know what's going on! And everything's spinning…" Sitting up was evidently not such a good plan as he rested his head back down on the cool ground. "I'm just gonna take a nap. Things'll make more sense later, I'm sure."

On the opposite side of the wooded clearing, Tiger informed Jaguar that this incident was not going to change the topic.

The tall, tanned medic nervously switched his weight from foot to foot. "Well I was originally going to be a pediatrician or something medical, but after I saw a couple of plays on campus, I might have changed to theatrical arts?"

"Wait, theatre?" Cat complained, still clutching at his swelling eye. "You mean this was all an act?"

From behind them and on the ground, Crow turned his head to see them better, fresh blood dripping from his mouth. "Are we done yet?"

Jaguar hit himself in the forehead as everyone else jolted back from the reanimated soldier. "Well I guess we are now. Look, the important part is that we flushed out Cat like we wanted, and even more importantly, this wasn't my idea. I got dragged into this."

"This changes nothing," Cat snarled. Even without the gun, he still looked wild and dangerous. "I'm still going to kill—" His head was suddenly snapped sharply to the left as Redbird sat his bottle on his ear.

"I don't think this is real French champagne," he sighed, turning the bottle on its side. "It should say somewhere on the label here."

"Old man, I am trying to carry out my revenge!"

"Yeah, and I'm here to arrest you for killing Black Cats, but let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. Damn. Made in Quebec. And so young. It's just not the same. Here, put these handcuffs on so I can get back to real work."

"What the fuck? Hell no! Get away from me!"

After a minute of heated disputes over former professions, prioritizing and lack of attention on a certain soldier's part, Tiger finally gave a sharp whistle. "Okay, story time since most of us have no idea what the hell is going on, starting with you," he declared firmly, pointing at Cat, "and you," this time at Crow, who had contentedly settled back down in his own personal pool of blood. "Cat, what's this whole thing with you pretending to die on us?"

The former soldier, who did look a great deal like he could have been Alex's older brother with his fair skin, dark chocolate eyes, messily cut auburn hair and short stature, was skulking on the ground in camo so similar to SAS dress that it must have been stolen from someone's wardrobe, his arms pinned back somewhat awkwardly by a set of handcuffs. "Because it is pretty damn hard to hold two jobs at the same time, don't you think?" His mouth was set in a proud smirk. "Besides, killing people is so much more profitable and to get Reid through college in the states was a most expensive venture."

"Okay, still too far ahead," Tiger muttered. "Crow, fill us in."

"Wait, wait, wait." Jaguar and Snake stopped them at the same time. "So you two are brothers?" Snake asked.

Tiger answered in their place. "Yes, they're fraternal twins. It's actually in their files, they just preferred to keep it to themselves." This could be a long morning. "Back to the story, Crow."

"I only know so much. Xion and I are orphans, so my brother worked to put me through uni. I assumed he'd been working as a sales clerk."

"How could I have possibly made enough as a sales clerk?"

"It's what you told me. I figured it must have been for a larger company."

"Well it wasn't. I went to a group that hired mercenaries for incredible salaries in China."

Crow readjusted his position to get off a rock that was trying to embed itself in his spine."That's unfortunate."

"It's not! I had a decent job for once in my life and I wanted you to be able to do whatever you wanted. And this is how you repay me?" he snapped back.

Tiger put a hand up. "We haven't gotten that far yet. Cat, you never really answered my question. Why'd you pretend to get killed?"

Cat stretched his legs out, trying to get the blood flow back in them. "Like I said, holding two jobs on opposite ends of the globe is a bitch. Being a mercenary had better benefits. A couple colleagues helped stage things and got the proper paperwork in order to keep anyone from figuring out what was happening at the time. Besides, I didn't want to get Reid in trouble for being associated with me if I was found out, so I died and used other names."

Snake and Jaguar exchanged a look. "That actually makes some kind of twisted sense," Jaguar admitted. "I was expecting some kind of dramatic story about some blood feud you were out to avenge or the like."

"Hey, assassins and mercenaries aren't like the clichés in books and movies," he complained. "I came back, didn't I?"

"Yeah, to kill people," Crow noted. "That's hardly convincing."

"But they tried to replace me!" He snickered. "So I always watched the rolls after Selection to make sure that my replacement would look as close to me as possible. And once they were getting too close for comfort, I arranged for an accident. No one can replace me."

Snake grabbed Tiger before he could rip his former teammate's head off. "Come on, Tiger. Let's not have an actual murder to add to this mess."

"There have already been _three_!"

"I apologize for my brother's narcissism and psychopathic tendencies. He must have gotten it from our father's side," Crow offered up, as if that family connection explained everything.

"Alright, I think we have the idea," Snake quickly decided. "Now how did you and Jaguar get pulled into this?" He controlled his patience as they both gestured at Bunny, who was currently taking a dirt nap, light snores periodically drifting over to them. "Take responsibility!"

Crow and Jaguar took a second to appreciate the irony before they started laughing. The rest of them could only look on in confusion. While Crow managed to regain his poise as much as one can do while looking like a zombie, Jaguar launched into a full apoplectic fit, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Hey, this isn't a joke!" Cat insisted. "Tell me who set this up! What was my mistake?"

"Your DNA."

The whole group now turned to look at yet another new arrival. "It's Thomas, Bunny's CIA boyfriend!" Jaguar exclaimed. "Unless that was a cover, and you're actually here to avenge someone he killed that you were close to!"

Thomas raised an eyebrow. He was still dressed in his very American teenage garb, but the holster and badge at his hip made it clear that he was no longer here for the festivities. "As far as I know, that's not the case. I'm just visiting long enough to drag our suspect back for interrogation in New York. Shooting at senators is never a good idea, for future reference," he playfully teased Cat, winking at him. "If you'd killed him, it would have been a different story, but he was able to give full testimony about you. It's quite a shame, since you were so good at disguising your fingerprints and not leaving hair or skin samples for us to run. But don't worry guys. Once he serves his full sentence in the U.S., you can put him on trial yourself."

"Let's go back to how this all happened," Tiger argued, "for the rest of us who weren't involved."

Crow finally stood up, flexing his back to get the kinks out of it. "We weren't kidding. Bunny was the one who started asking me about the circumstances behind my brother's death." Thomas knelt down, kicking the silver-haired Frog out of the way in the process, and adjusted Bunny so that he was curled more comfortably up against his side. "He already knew a little bit, so I assume he got it from Thomas over there," said CIA agent grinned widely and held up his fingers in the universal peace sign. "At one point, he saw someone out behind the shooting range and we ran after them." He nodded in Cat's direction. "My brother hit me with something—"

"A branch."

"—so I don't know exactly what happened between him and Bunny…"

Cat reflected on the incident with his look-alike in the woods. Fighting is hard. Fighting in the rain is harder. Fighting in the rain on slick mud with thick, low-lying branches ready to give you a good headache the next morning is just hellish. As some eyes slid curiously over, he rolled his own and snorted. Yeah, that was one piece of information he doubted either him or Bunny would be giving up of their own accord anytime soon.

"…but I grabbed Bunny as soon as I woke up and took him over to the on-call doctor. He was smart enough to take samples from under his fingernails to send home with Thomas when they stopped at the shooting range."

"Which still begs the question: Why the _CIA_?" Jaguar asked, looking at 'Thomas' rather than Crow.

Said agent was busy poking his unconscious boyfriend on the head. "Who knows," he mysteriously proclaimed.

"And you knew something was up faster than we did!"

"I am renowned in my department for my ability to see the future three days ahead of time."

"How can you say that with a straight face?"

Tiger sighed. CIA, MI6, spies were the same on both sides of the pond. "Jaguar, leave it be. I'd rather like to know how you got pulled into this."

"See I was actually enlisted to make sure everyone did this stunt safely, because knowing Crow and Bunny, they would have decided that actual blood was the way to go and beat each other to a pulp." He put his hands out in a peacekeeping gesture. "They needed a medic to convince everyone else that Crow was dead, and someone with a good thumb on theatrics for the horror factor."

Snake snorted as everyone took a minute to reexamine the scene. Theatrics just didn't cover it. It was hard to believe that anyone had actually been fooled by it, but the shock had apparently been enough to disregard common sense. "How many buckets of…whatever this is…did you use anyway?"

"There's the genius of it! See, the messy stuff on the ground and trees is mostly paint that we mixed last night and water to make it soak in to the dirt, but the stuff we dumped on Crow needed to actually smear and feel like real blood. It's actually an energy drink based formula that's made with a consistency nearly identical to blood*. We couldn't have Crow accidentally ingesting paint after all this trouble."

"It tastes like fruit punch," said man commented.

"And Crow was quite the actor," Jaguar felt the need to add. "Apparently, he used to play the trumpet. He does this thing where instead of breathing in and out through either just the nose or mouth, he can alternate between them**."

"That's why he didn't seem to be breathing," the medic realized, "because he was breathing out through his nose and in through his mouth. What about his pulse?"

"Hacky sack under the armpit to cut off circulation. Works like a charm."

"This is all nice, but what happened to Bunny?"

Crow and Jaguar exchanged a confused shrug. "The scratches on his cheek were done an hour before you got here, while we were still setting up," the sniper noted. "In case my brother took his time, we were prepared to wait him out for a week. Bunny thought that having a sample to say that we were without a doubt fighting would further encourage Cat."

Jaguar picked up where he left off. "After that he left to dunk his hand in some of our leftover 'blood' that we stashed in a hollowed-out tree stump. He stumbled back looking like that a couple minutes ago. I thought he might be sick, but it was convincing enough that I didn't stop things to look him over."

"Then what…?" A lightbulb seemed to illuminate over Tiger's head as he turned to the CIA boyfriend who, of course, was smearing antibiotic on the smaller soldier's cheek. Thomas met his eyes easily. "You certainly got here at a convenient time, as always. Coincidence, right?"

"Nah, I was just talking with Redbird about how to flush out Cat when I heard the shouts. Good thing we got here, right? No? You're not going with that? Okay fine, I might have been worried that my Bunny here wasn't the best actor and given him a tiny dose of benzodiazepine to make sure his little plot worked."

"'m not little," the younger drowsily complained, swatting unsuccessfully at his hand.

"Of course you aren't," he drawled, running his other hand through his matted hair. "Anyway, even if I would do such a terrible thing, the side effects of such an… insignificant amount wouldn't last more than an hour or two."

Tiger's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You had better not be using him with every intention of throwing him away." The man transformed in an instant from soldier to father. "He's had enough trouble as is, and I don't want to add you and your own to that list."

His wry smirk had twisted into a pissed grimace. There was only so much he could stand, and it was accusations like Tiger's that were past his limit. Before he could deliver words that would have destroyed their cover, words he would have definitely regretted the instant they left his lips, fingers knotted themselves in his hair and pulled just hard enough to hurt. "Ow owowowow, let go!"

"Mom doesn't like fighting," noted Bunny without releasing him.

"She doesn't like hair pulling either!" he whined insistently.

Bunny coolly replied, "I'm sure she'd understand. Sorry, Tiger. This idiot here is easily provoked."

From the opposite side of the clearing, Crow stepped clear of his pool of blood. "You seem to be doing better," he directed at Bunny.

"Yeah, so do you." However the drug had messed with him, it had clearly messed with his memory. "Is it Halloween yet?"

"Your plan, remember?"

His face went blank as he tried to think back. "No."

"Well it worked."

"That's a given. All my plans work whether I know of them or not."

Thomas disdainfully snorted before getting up, leaving Bunny to fall backwards on to the ground. "As much as I love all this reminiscing, I think I'll leave before the therapy session starts. Cat's going with me. Anyone for a last hug?" He glanced around the small crowd that was giving off an easily detectable 'what the hell?' vibe. "No? Okay, I'm out of here. Redbird has to be in Châteauneuf before midnight."

D-Unit's leader raised a skeptical eyebrow. "France?" Last he'd heard, World War II was still over. The SAS should hardly be necessary.

"Wine festival," Frog muttered dismissively, as if this were ordinary for their commander.

"Wine festival?" he spluttered.

"Exactly my feeling," the CIA agent grimaced, "but it wasn't my call to make." He whistled to Redbird. "Come on! You aren't the only one on a schedule!"

Frog stepped over to Redbird, who was making no movements towards escorting Cat out, and the blond soldier grabbed their new prisoner by his armpits and threw him over one shoulder. "Hey!" Cat protested. "I'm not an invalid! Put me down!"

"Are you going to get Scorpion?"

Redbird shrugged. "Nah. He's nowhere near good enough. Maybe a couple months of practice here will fix him up. Unless you guys would be willing to make a trade…" He eyed Bunny, looked around at Jaguar, Crow and Tiger, none of whom had obliging expressions, then back to the young soldier dusting himself off. "We're done here," he decided, nodding at Thomas. "Gopher's been ready since this morning. Just head his direction."

"So," the agent scuffed his sneaker against the ground as he addressed Bunny, "sorry about the whole…er…drugging. I probably should have at least asked, but I wasn't sure if you would go with it."

Bunny suddenly looked just as awkward. "It's alright…I guess. It is a little weird, completely missing the last couple hours, but the dizziness and stuff has worn off so it isn't so bad. Let's just talk this over next time first?"

"Sure!" He waved energetically and followed after Redbird, Frog and the loudly complaining Cat.  
>"Ciao and make sure you don't tell anyone about this!"<p>

Jaguar chuckled. "How the hell does he think we're even going to try convincing anyone of this?"

Before Tiger could muster up a loud complaint to his unit about leaving him out of the loop, among other equally important bits that had come to his attention, a breathless Scorpion burst into the clearing, not looking any more healthy than he had upon his just as sudden previous departure though some color had returned to his face from the sudden dash. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," D-Unit's commander grumbled. This was going to be a very long morning. The sergeant had come out of the foliage not seconds after him in a considerably more dignified manner, and he did not look pleased at being dragged into the woods.

At his shoulder, Scorpion couldn't take his eyes off Crow and Bunny. "What's going on here?"

The sergeant crossed his arms, torn between staring at a zombie-like Crow who seemed unaware of his unusually bloody attire, glaring at the other three members of D-Unit and taking in what appeared to be the aftermath of a terribly well done Halloween prank. "I hope you have a good explanation for all this."

* * *

><p>They didn't, and that was how they got stuck 'babysitting the kiddies' on one of their survival expeditions. With two pissed soldiers in their surveillance task force, it became an unexpected punishments for the batch of SAS candidates they were attached to. Their instructions were to 'observe and relay if something absolutely life-threatening' came to pass, but otherwise to 'stay out of the way'. Tiger and Jaguar translated that to 'don't let them catch on.'<p>

So it became a competition as to who could place large sticks in their path under cover of dark, steal their water bottles right off their knapsack, or accomplish the most creative, risky plot. When one of the men, just out of high school, murmured to his team about ghosts haunting them, even Tiger and Jaguar had to jump as they heard a long, low howl too close for comfort.

Jaguar glared back at Crow, who had the smallest smirk creasing his lips. Bunny had barely smothered a laugh in time, his hand still covering his mouth to ensure it couldn't escape. "Are you _trying_ to blow our cover and get us killed by the serge?" The sniper shrugged, visibly pleased with himself for the stunt.

However, both Jaguar and Tiger had to give him points as the four-person group argued over whether or not to put out the fire if a wolf was nearby and if wolves were even supposed to be in the area.

Tiger quietly chuckled. "I'm so glad I don't have to do Selection again," he sighed. "Longest year of my life." Jaguar agreed wholeheartedly, nodding so fast that his head should have come loose and fallen off. "You should count yourself the luckiest person in camp to have gotten around it."

They watched the group settle in for the night, worries about wolves probably still floating around their consciousness. Alex replied under his breath, "Oh believe me, I do."

* * *

><p>AN: And next up is the epilogue! Thanks for following me even though it's taking forever to get chapters up. Now, back to the schoolwork I have to have done before school starts in…eight hours. *sigh*

*I don't mean to stick an advertisement here, but this does exist through . This wonderful site is where I buy 90% of my clothing. I happened to stumble upon these "blood packs" and thought I should include them.

**Circular breathing is the key behind this. I don't know about other instruments, but trumpets and flutes work to perfect this so that they can play while breathing. It's quite the feat. What I had Crow do was the exact reverse.


	11. Please Read

Sorry to have to bring you this chapter, but this story is going on hiatus along with every other unfinished story I have. I've tried to write while struggling through my first year of college, but a wonderful reviewer has clarified into a couple words what I already knew: my plots are falling apart. They aren't original, it's gotten unbearably cheesy, and something drastic has to be done to get them back on track.

Here's my plan: End of the Road (which is the prequel to this story) and Requiem for a Rising Star will both be completely rewritten. Whether or not the names will be the same hasn't been decided yet. I will start this once I get the results of my first finals back and decide I can devote more time to writing. Then I will delete both stories and start rebuilding.

Sorry everyone, but you deserve better than this. Much better. I hope I can earn you back with the rewrites.

~Tsuki


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